Groose's Yooses
by icearrows1200
Summary: Or, if you prefer, his uses. Four months after Link and Zelda decided to remain on the Surface, the rest of Skyloft joins them in creating the new Hyrule. Their meager settlement is threatened when Rupin, who owns the town's only shop, leaves with all of the town's goods. Trying to impress Zelda, Groose takes over the economy with his own store, but soon, unforseen problems arise.
1. Industry Gives

_Industry gives comfort and plenty and respect._

 _-Benjamin Franklin_

* * *

The air was crisp, placid, and chilly on the Surface, in an uneasy way that was so very different from Skyloft. It was cloudy here, unlike in Skyloft where they rested _above_ the angelic white, cottony, puffs of condensation; no, here on the _Surface_ , when clouds snuck over the sun, it made the entire land cold and dark. On Skyloft, when the day was hot and muggy, a wind would pass through to ease the inhabitants, and when it was chilly, the sun's heat would swell and comfort the little people that thrived on the floating island. On the Surface, though, when it was hot, it was _hot_ , and when it was cold, it was _cold._ As of this very moment, exactly four and a half months after the Skyloftians migrated to the Earth to become _Hylians,_ the wind stood as still as the North Star, clouds hung blankly and statically- stratus clouds- unlike any they had seen before, and Autumn had settled into the most densely populated area of the surface, Faron Woods. The titanic trees donned leaves in a plethora of colors, ranging from orange to brown and yellow to the occasional purple. The grass faded from its lustrous green into a murky gold that would shine in the sunlight should the sun dare slink from its hiding spot in the clouds.

Needless to say, the newest inhabitants were entirely unaccustomed to these alien weather patterns, having only one season in Skyloft: Summer. Fortunately, pumpkins tended to thrive in this environment, so as the weather grew colder, the impending doom of this foreign "Winter" would not prove to be so wretched, provided they could store enough. The villagers had a lot to learn, though. Houses would need to be made quickly and with a sturdy material, hence the focus on the weather and raw materials; the century-old trees would feel the weapons of man, creaking and groaning with an inconsequential protest. Stones would be dismantled from the rock beds, piled up into walls and buildings. Though Pumpkins and other minor crops could sustain the population, it didn't _please_ them. The large and glistening mushrooms were quite frightening to an unsure set of eyes, so they were avoided entirely. Birds, the small ones of course, served as a suitable meal for a single person, yet were hard to catch by a clumsy hand. Next spring, the colony of sentient beings would deal with the aspects of food: animal domestication, experimentation of mushrooms, and gathering of new crops. For now,despite the displeasure of the small village dubbed _Hyrule_ , pumpkins would have to do.

This _Hyrule_ was a long path just northeast of the Sealed Grounds, with houses and a single general store lining the sides of the one road. Roughly a mile long in length, the path ended near the entrance to the eastern portions of Faron Woods where one could find the Kikwis. The end of this path held a large house, designed slightly like the Knight Academy, but only in its structure. This, per se, was the capital, where Zelda and her father lived as the unanimously elected rulers of the village. The fact that Zelda was a Goddess in mortal form wasn't exactly a _settling_ thought, but it didn't change much either; Zelda was still Zelda, outside for most of the day, curiosity driving her to explore as much as she could, or as much as her father would allow her to. Yet the tribes in that dwelled in the other regions were an unknown force. They posed no threat that the Hylians were _aware_ of, (the Kikwis had kindly greeted them upon their first day of arrival, bearing a basket of fruits) but there was no reason to not take precautions; the Goron that wandered around from time to time looked quite strong and overbearing and, well, everything else was simply new and frightening.

Other than the fear of the unknown that spread like the plague, the Hylians were, for the most part, happy of the change in environment and the glorious and copious future it held for all of them.

Groose frowned at the weather above him, wrapping a scratchy, plant-fiber blanket closer around his body. His pompadour flopped disdainfully to his frustration, as no gel as superb as the one up in Skyloft could compensate for what he had now: tree sap. He shivered, and his skin broke into goosebumps, or as he preferred to call them, _Groosebumps_. The ground was frozen and hard, so even when he dug his boot into the soil, nothing was unearthed except for a few dead blades of grass.

He sighed as a shiver ran down his spine and a beetle inched its way in front of Groose's feet, lethargic and pitiful. The insect stopped and turned itself towards the Hylian more boldly than Groose had ever seen a bug act. He hovered his foot over the creature, mentally disputing on whether the life of this seemingly useless beetle would be vanquished or not. The beetle, sensing danger, scuttled away through the grass, and Groose lowered his foot back to its original position, huffing with an unsatisfied grimace.

The pitiful town that now served as his permanent home (he looked up at the sky with remorse now, remembering the life he used to hold so dear) was empty of bustling life, as all the inhabitants were indoors, moping and dragging around their low spirits on this dreadful day. Yet now, Groose stood outside, staring contemplatively at the half-built houses that stood as strong as the trees and stones from which they were derived, with smoke curling lazily from their chimneys. He had assisted in building a few of them during days with superior weather from dawn until dusk. This new life was a paradox; upon living on Skyloft, Groose had considered his life exciting and daring, gallant and superb. Though, when he first ventured onto the surface, he believed the solid ground, grand trees, and foreign species to be a new and heightened level of exhilaration- a slice of a heroic and bold life that he had always dreamed of. But as his feet crunched under the dead grass and leaves of the forest, echoing without the perpetual and calm cries of the birds who had supposedly snuggled away for the winter, Groose couldn't help but think that whatever Link and Zelda had dragged them all into was, in a very real sense, boring and laborious.

Groose strode eastward towards his destination: the Sealed Grounds. Had it not been for the enormous Statue of the Goddess protruding from the Earth, Groose may have become lost on his way there; pushing back overgrown brush and tree limbs from the path to the secluded temple proved to be confusing without the point of reference dominating the horizon.

Groose stopped at the entrance to the sacred place, pushing at the moss-covered, ancient door that had worn away a slick groove in the soil beneath it from constant use over the most recent months. He sniffed the familiar air that hung heavy with dust and air from thousands of years past. He came to stop in front of the frozen, lifeless stone that no longer pulsed with the regularity of a clock, and hesitantly touched the colossal ornament. He retracted his hand as if he had been burnt by breaking a forbidden law, fear running through him from the sacred object and into him. This mechanism, this mass with a scent of ancient times, held no, _stole_ a part of him. That part of him was thousands of years in the past, cold, and sealed, leaving him feeling naked and maimed, violated and robbed.

Standing there, inches in front of him, her braid swinging with the tempo of the Door of Time, was where he had last seen Impa, the ancient woman of a thousand years. Just as the rhythmic ticking of the door had stopped, so had her her swinging braid- so had her heartbeat. The one who had believed in him the entire time, knowing his key role in destiny.

He missed her. Groose missed Impa more than he did his hair gel, or Pumpkin soup under the rusty light of the Lumpy Pumpkin, or even what it felt like to fly on the back of his Loftwing. Groose drew his eyes away from the sight and dropped a wilting flower at the base of the Door of Time.

* * *

As Groose returned to the center of town, his heart lightened but still stinging, an audible ruckus rang and echoed in the village. It sounded akin to shouting, and Groose shuddered, having already heard far too much of the cries of humans in past times. He unwittingly quickened his pace, rounded a corner, and found himself at the back of a crowd, loud and panicked as the constant rustle of people pushing and shoving overtook all that he could hear.

The shorter people having been pushed to the back, Groose yelled a curt, "Watch where you're going!" And dove curiously into the populous ocean.

By the time he had gotten to the front of the mass, he saw the front of a small, wooden building, windows boarded up. On the porch of it stood Rupin, the ever-smiling shop owner whose facade of rosey cheeks were now nothing but an angry contortion. On his back rested a rucksack stacked a mile high, filled to the brim while the most absurd things- pots, hammers, even what seemed to be a cloth bag leaking out some flour- were attached to the outside of the backpack.

"People, people!" Rupin's hands were up in the air at shoulder height, "Please calm down!"

More shouting and yelling ensued, and Groose turned his head from side to side, utterly bewildered.

Rupin picked up a suitcase he hadn't noticed before, and shouted at a level unfeasible for such a small frame, "SHUT UP!" The crowd silenced slightly on a whim, "I cannot stay here any longer, and I have decided to move my business elsewhere. I-"

A tall, burly man in the crowd yelled violently, stepping onto a barrel to raise himself, "But this is the only shop we have! You employ nearly half of us!"

More ruckus.

"HEY!" Despite the shouting refusing to cease, Rupin continued, "I don't _care_ if you all think I should stay here- it's rowdiness like this that makes me want to disappear from here forever!"

A man bumped Groose in the back as the crowd became more tightly packed, forcing Groose to the front, "Watch it, now. I'm not your punching bag."

One of the men nearby- Groose recognized him as Gondo- was using his superior height and booming voice to gather attention, "Where will you go?"

Rupin sighed, shaking his head in his hand, "The Mogmas, you idiots! I just told you that!"

Kina stood on her toes, her long black hair settling below her shoulders, as she no longer had the means to keep it in an updo. Groose toyed with the idea that she was in a similar hair predicament to him. "But our _soup_ pot is in there," Kina stressed, "How can you take all of our utensils and goods? We'll _starve_! Everything owned by the community was in the bazaar, how _could_ you?!"

"Oh, shut up, Kina," Rupin groaned, "You- all of you- gave me autonomy over the store. It was no longer a bazaar, it was _my_ store. I have every right to take the things I own wherever I please!"

Groose furrowed his brow interrogatively, "How will you even get business there? That's practically on the other side of the world!" He added, knowing he was being listened to, "You can't be serious!"

"Well, I am. And there's nothing you can do about it." Rupin folded his arms defiantly, "If you want goods, go make your own." With an angry huff, he picked up his two enormous suitcases, readjusted his backpack, and dashed off into the woods behind the store, leaving the crowd still in a ruckus.

"Someone chase after him!" Groose said, gesturing to the deep forest behind the shop, "He can't run very fast with that attached to his back. We can still catch him!"

When no one moved, Groose turned to look at the mass of people, staring back at him blankly, "What, aren't we going to go after our food and tools?"

Peater swaggered forward, put a large hand on Groose's shoulder, "You can go after him, Groose, but I don't advise going by yourself." Before Groose could protest and ask why _they_ wouldn't come, Peater shook his head, his blonde hair becoming easily disheveled, "No one's keen on leaving our little village here, not even the knights. Son, I think it's best if we let him leave. We'll manage, we always do. Especially with the help and blessing of our Goddess, Hylia." He motioned towards the biggest house at the end of the long lane.

Groose swallowed harshly, "Yeah…"

Groose stood motionless in the midst of the rowdy crowd, bewildered. Not only was it astonishing that Rupin actually thought he could get business from the Mogmas unless he had some kind of hidden treasure, but Groose was hardly convinced that Rupin- who had been the town's sole supplier, employer, and manufacturer since they came on to the surface and had employed the other Bazaar workers- could just quit. The whole town relied on his store for their staple goods: sugar, flour, salt, the works- all brought down when they migrated from Skyloft to Hyrule. And yet now the front door had been barred up with wood and fashioned with several locks, as well as all of the goods inside stacked up in a huge backpack that now was just an ample traveler as Rupin.

The flock of villagers had begun to disperse, mumbling to themselves about hungry mouths to feed, their nearly depleted resources, their children who have grown thin and crops that were small and runt-like. Groose jogged up to Gondo, who walked with angry strides towards the direction of his house, and stopped him.

"Gondo, you worked for him," Groose said, "Do you know _why_ he's doing this? It doesn't seem like him. He adores money, and that's what we give him."

Gondo sighed and shook his head, "You heard him, Groose; he said he wanted to sell his goods to the Mogmas. They've got lots of treasure up in the mountains." He continued walking, his giant pace difficult for even Groose to keep up with.

Groose scrambled to find words, "No, I mean… _why_?"

"I just told you why."

"No man with a steady income would just run off like that, right?" Groose asked, mostly just asking himself, Gondo was already ahead of him again, "He's practically got the whole town wrapped around his damn finger. It's not like the Mogma even need sugar and flour, don't they eat rocks or something?" When Groose looked up, Gondo was already slamming the door to his small house, locking the door, probably to tinker around with things to relieve stress. Groose didn't blame him, nor did he blame anyone else who was filtering out of the long strip of land and heading home- many of them had just lost their jobs. Peatrice was no longer a cashier, Pumm had no soup to sell and Kina no songs to sing. Sparrot had no fortunes to tell, Gondo no longer could tinker away at customers' items and Luv and Bertie's potions ingredients lay in Rupin's rucksack.

Groose walked across the dirt path towards his own house, stopping just outside the door. Kneeling beside his personal pumpkin patch, he poked the small, orange gourds. The biggest one was hardly the size of his palm, and the rest weren't much to look at, anyway. A small layer of frost was covering the vines and he looked heavenward, hoping the dreary sky would give way to beams of sunlight to warm the frozen earth. In terms of clothing, he and the other villagers hadn't much suited to this weather. Groose did own a cloak, but it was only thick enough to cover from the lightest of winds.

"If you want goods, you can go make your own," Groose repeated Rupin's words to himself, entering his small wooden home. He shut the door, locked it with a satisfying _click_ , and decided to settle in for the remainder of the day. The town needed time to mourn, to get over the loss of their resources, to reorganize their thoughts.

Knowing- or rather, _hoping_ \- Gaepora and Zelda, as leaders of the village, would come up with a solution, Groose popped open the second to last bottle of pumpkin soup he had stored on his shelf and poured it into the pot atop his wood-burning stove to heat it. Well, from now on he'd better learn to make his own pumpkin soup from scratch, considering he could no longer purchase it in the bottle. That is, Groose thought, looking out the window and at his pitiful patch, if the pumpkins survived.

Once it had been heated, he poured it from the pot into his bowl and sipped from that. The sweet, warm, thick soup that he had so often eaten in Skyloft and at the Lumpy Pumpkin was a distant memory, a taste he could recall, but no longer enjoy. It was sufficient, but watered down and seasoned with nothing but salt. To be honest, though, Groose didn't blame Pumm for being hesitant about putting foreign herbs in his soup that the whole community ate.

When he had finished, he stared out his bedroom window, onward at the northernmost building in the village. Sometimes he hoped he could catch a glimpse of Zelda through her window- no, not for any perverted reason- but just to know that she was _alive_. Yearning to know of her safety was a habit of his, one that he thought of daily since she had nearly lost her life to Ghirahim and the Demon King. Of course, they had all nearly lost their lives that day, but thinking of Zelda perishing made it no longer an adventure, but the most real threat he had ever faced.

Groose knew he could worry about Zelda all he wanted to, and she would still be safe. Naturally, there was no threat, for she was the Goddess herself, and Link, the Chosen Hero. Both were here to protect the new Hyrule, and each other. Being through all the endeavours with Link and Zelda might have made Groose realize he had been a bit harsh on not only Link, but...everyone; however, it didn't make his stomach stop lurching with jealousy when Zelda would skip around town, her pretty hair flowing behind her shoulders, Link tagging along like a lost puppy.

A draft entered through the window and Groose slammed it shut in frustration. It could do him some good to think like Link. If Zelda found Link so fascinating, then Groose could just do what Link would do- and what a perfect opportunity that has sprung upon him! The village is in peril, no food to be found, but no one would have to go to _Link_ for help. Everything they needed would be right here with Groose.

 _A/N: And that's the exposition chapter. The second chapter is currently in the works and I promise it's a lot more exciting than this. Thank you for reading, and please give a review if you have the time. :)_


	2. At the Working Man's House

_At the working man's house hunger looks in but dares not enter._

 _-Benjamin Franklin_

* * *

 _Bang!_

Groose let out a gasp, sitting up straight in bed.

From behind the door, he could hear muffled speech, sounding very much like someone yelling his name.

"Hang on, hang on," Groose called out, stepping into his pants and pulling his shirt over his head all at once. The view from his window told him it was still dark out, but the sky looked clear, perhaps promising a warmer, sunny day.

Whoever was outside pounded on the door three more times, so loudly that Groose worried it would wake up the whole village. "I'm coming," He mumbled to himself, ripping the door open only to find Cawlin, standing before him in his pajamas.

"Cawlin? What are you doing here? What time is it?" Groose demanded, stifling a yawn. Simply choosing not to answer, Cawlin pushed his way into Groose's home easily, slipping between Groose and the door frame. He followed him inside, watched him help himself to a slice of bread Groose had left out yesterday, and seat himself in the only chair in the house.

"Not that you're not welcome here, but I'd really like to know-"

"It's a little after five," Cawlin addressed, taking a bite out of the crust.

"No, I mean _why_ , Cawlin," Groose implored, "Why are you here?"

Cawlin's beady eyes widened as he swallowed the bread, and for a split second, Groose thought he had begun to choke. Before he could act, the shorter of the two nodded and took another bite.

"Groose," He said, his mouth full, "My house has been robbed."

Shaking his head, Groose couldn't believe what he had heard. Of course, he knew not everyone they had brought down from Skyloft had the highest moral standing- Groose knew from the experience of his _own_ actions- but he had never heard of someone stooping down to _crime_.

"You were _robbed_?" Groose clarified incredulously. He gestured in the direction of Cawlin's house, "Well, who did it?"

Cawlin sighed melodramatically, "Do you really think that if I _knew_ , I'd be right here? No- I'd be pounding the sucker's head in!" He stood up and wiped the breadcrumbs off of his pants. Groose gave him a glare that could bend iron. "Right, right, you don't want mice in here, do you? Now where do you keep your broom?" Groose pointed to the corner and Cawlin ventured over to it, sweeping the crumbs towards the door in aggressive swoops.

While Cawlin was listing all of the things that had been taken from his house- _all_ his food, a pair of scissors, his cloak, some firewood, and an old necklace that had been in his family _forever_ \- a little square of paper on the floor caught Groose's eye. Bending down, he picked it up; finding that it was folded in half, he opened it and before he could read the content that had been scribbled in ink, Cawlin launched himself at Groose and tackled him to the floor.

"Give it back, Groose! Give it back!"

"Give what back?" Groose demanded, pushing Cawlin's hand off of his face. Being far stronger, he was able to lift Cawlin off of him and stand up, but his foot was yanked out from beneath him as the shorter of the two reached for Groose's hands.

"The note, you idiot!" Cawlin shrieked, "Come _on_ , Groose, give it to me!" Voice panic stricken, he grabbed hold of Groose's wrist, his sock-clad foot pressed into his chest. Desperately, he tried to pry open Groose's enclosed fist, and though he was keeping him down with surprising force, Cawlin couldn't free the paper of Groose's grip.

"What the hell, Cawlin?!" Groose used his other hand and pushed Cawlin off of him, sending him flying across the room, resembling a small rodent as he scrambled to his feet. Groose raised himself to his full height, putting a huge distance between he and Cawlin as the latter dashed across the floor, propelling himself up and down, arm extended in a futile effort to grab the paper. It was like taking candy from an aggressive baby.

"Dammit, Groose, _give me the PAPER_!" He quit jumping, extending his hand outward, palm face up, "You won't understand what's on it anyway. So, just… drop it." He motioned to the floor in a bow.

Sensing the upper hand he had in the situation, Groose unclenched his fist, watching Cawlin's face melt into relief. His expression changed rapidly, though, when he saw Groose yank open the paper ostentatiously, like a scroll.

"Groose, no."

Groose took a deep breath, and in his best effort to sound like Gaepora, read aloud the first line, "Dear Cawlin."

" _Please,_ Groose, _please_ don't read it," Cawlin pleaded, his hands clasped together at his chest, "It fell out of my pocket, it's not meant for you." He fell to his knees in a bundle of desperation, and Groose took his eyes off of the paper to look at the sight at his feet. His grip slackened and he let the paper flutter down to the shaking and waiting hands of Cawlin.

"Because you said _please_ ," Groose teased, though he had simply pitied bringing Cawlin to the state of begging.

Cawlin snatched the paper out of thin air and shoved it in his pocket posthaste. He stood up uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with Groose as best he could. He swallowed, "So, what I came here for is actually, uh… I hate to ask, really…"

Impatient, Groose motioned for him to continue.

"I was wondering if I could have a little bit of your food. All of mine was taken in the robbery, I guess word of Rupin's departure travels quickly," Cawlin laughed sheepishly, picking up the broom again, casually sweeping dirt that wasn't there into little, invisible piles.

Groose waved his hand dismissively, "Whatever, sure." As Cawlin began stuffing a bag that Groose hadn't noticed before with bread, he called out for him to stop.

"What? You don't want me to?" He began dumping the bread back onto the table, "I guess that's fine, but if I die, then-"

"No, you can have bread, Cawlin," Groose sighed, exasperated, and Cawlin quickly returned the bread to his bag, "Just listen. I'll let you have as much of my food as you'd like, but you're going to need to do me a favor."

"What, are you going to ask to read the note?"

"No, but go home and get changed into your day clothes, and come back here as soon as you're done," Groose ordered, and Cawlin scrambled his way towards the door, "We're going to be heroes."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Cawlin said, heaving a huge, still steaming pot of pumpkin soup onto the table Groose had set out in front of his house, "You're going to give me food, after you _give it all away_?!"

"Not all of it," Groose noted, stacking the bread onto a plate in neat rows, "I've set aside enough bread, flour, sugar, salt and butter for the two of us for about a week. The rest is," With his right hand he picked up a hammer, and his left, a large sign he had propped up against his house. It took a bit of effort to get the sign into the ground, considering how frozen solid it was, but he managed a success. Stepping back, he read the sign aloud, "For the elderly and children."

Cawlin gaped at Groose in disbelief. He huffed, looking around at the village which would wake within the next twenty minutes, "But _why_?" His ability to be interrogative was reminding Groose of his conversation with Gondo the previous day.

Groose didn't really have an answer other than it was a shameless attempt to convince Zelda he was equally as capable as Link, and in fact, a hero for the community, but he didn't mention that to Cawlin.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Cawlin waved a hand in front of Groose's face, "Did you have a weird dream? An epiphany? This isn't anything the _real_ Groose would do."

Taken aback, Groose defended himself, "I _am_ the real Groose."

"Then where's your sense of self preservation?" Cawlin poked him in the chest daringly, "You can take care of the others when you've taken care of number one."

"Who's number one? Zelda?"

"No. It's yourself," Cawlin deadpanned, and eyed the tables they had set up. One for soup and bread, the next for water with a bring-your-own-utensils policy. "Look at this, Groose. You're giving away nearly everything that will sustain you through the winter, and for what? To impress Zelda?"

Groose felt his cheeks grow hot and panic boil up in his gut, "No, that's not it! Little kids and the elderly are most susceptible to illness, right? So since there's not a lot for them to live off of now, since Rupin's taken everything to the mountains," Groose reasoned. He strolled over to the pumpkin patch and eyed it worryingly. There was dew on the plant, but not yet frost, and for that, he was thankful. "I'm just doing my part."

"I guess that makes sense," Cawlin tapped a pumpkin with the toe of his boot, getting him a whack on the back of his head from Groose's palm. "But, Groose, I'm younger than eighteen, and technically a child. Does that mean I get some f-"

"No."

By the time they had finished setting out the tables and pounding the sign into the resistant ground, the sun had risen above the horizon, dying the sparsely clouded sky the color of a bruise. A soft breeze stung their exposed skin like insects, the steam from the pumpkin soup being blown to the east. Groose wondered if anyone could smell it from here, if, even with many of them now unemployed, they'd still awaken with the sun and go about their daily routines.

Cawlin and Groose stood in the dead silence of the village. A bird chirped, and its sound reverberated through the village like a pebble thrown into a canyon. Taking a glance at Cawlin's unamused expression, Groose was about to tell him that he knew for a _fact_ that Gondo left the house before eight, even when he didn't have work, but the creaking of a door a few houses down drew their attention to its source. Stepping out from her door, Luv emerged from her stone-built home, something tucked under her arm. She shut the door quickly behind her, but stopped in her tracks when Groose called out to her.

"Hello, Mrs. Braaten!" He waved at her from the distance. Eyes widening in surprise, Luv shoved the package she was holding into her apron pocket and squinted at the two of them, scrutinizing their positions as if to verify who they were. Putting on his best salesman demeanor, Groose shouted, "Is your child hungry because Rupin left town, all your goods in tow? Then come on down over here: food is free for children and the elderly!"

Luv began a slow stalk towards them, seemingly hesitant to approach them. Her dress, which usually was neat and well kept, had accumulated a few tears in the sleeves and her apron was dotted with mud and general filth. Moving to the Surface probably had had the biggest effect on Luv, given how orderly and routinial her life in Skyloft was, much to her husband's dismay. She often complained about their potion business not bringing in enough revenue for the family of three, that it was her husband's fault for not working as doggedly as she did.

After a particularly painstakingly sluggish trek from her house to the tables in front of Groose's, she put her hands on her hips and scanned the set up and the two boys with a judgmental eye.

"Groose, did you just call me _elderly_?" Luv demanded, putting her hands on the edge of the table and boring bloodshot eyes into his very soul, "I may not look my best down here on the Surface, but I'm working harder than you _ever_ have, young man. And now that all my supplies are gone, there's little hope for any of us." She gritted her teeth and Groose felt his stomach drop to his feet, "I don't need _you_ calling me elderly."

"N-no, ma'am," Groose stuttered, "That's not what I said. You're," He swallowed harshly, "looking very well, in fact." Luv ate up his compliment, basking in it like a snake in the sun.

He continued, thoroughly shaken. Cawlin himself had frozen in place, his eyes becoming two round dots, jaw slackened. "What I meant was that, if you wanted, you could pick up a serving of food for your daughter. I'm giving away a meal to each child and the elderly," He nodded at the sign and Luv formed a small _o_ with her mouth.

"Ah, forgive me, Groose. I guess I'm a little on edge," She apologized, pulled a bottle from her dress pocket, and began filling it up with soup, "But truly, this is a very noble thing to do. We adults can withstand more, can't we? I'm sure my little Dova would be thrilled to have a meal made by her neighbor."

Cawlin added, under his breath, "I hope she likes watered down soup." Groose flicked his shoulder.

Once she had finished gathering a single serving, she waved them a goodbye, balancing the bottle of soup and slice of bread in her hand, "Thank you boys. You've done a real service."

Groose grinned, thanking her for stopping by, and waited until he heard the _click_ of her door as it shut. "Do you think she'll even give it to Dova, or will the baby go hungry?"

"The second one," Cawlin answered, "I've never trusted her."

Groose agreed, but they couldn't very well break into her house and make sure the food was going to Luv's daughter, "I guess donations are a matter of trust."

They waited another half an hour before what seemed to be an almost instantaneous emergence of people from their homes. No one appeared as if they were particularly interested in talking to one another, clutching their stomachs with hunger, heads bowed in defeat. They checked their pumpkins, sighed and shook their heads, looking at the sky in fear, but astonishingly, several people walked right in front of the stand, ignoring it completely.

"Do they even _see_ us?" Cawlin questioned, and Groose shrugged, looking around the community now filled with people walking around, silently, aimlessly.

"Hey, people!" Groose shouted. It was an incredible sight to see nearly fifty people simultaneously look in his direction; he raised both arms in the air and gestured grandly to his table, "If you're under the age of twelve or over the age of sixty, right here you can get your free meal of everyone's favorite pumpkin bread and a slice of bread! It even comes with a complimentary glass of water! If you're hungry, come over and let ol' Groose take care of you."

"And me!"

"And Cawlin."

By the time he had finished his last sentence, mothers were ushering their children over, and the older generation was hobbling towards him on their canes. Within minutes, he was hardly able to hear Cawlin talk over the sound of everyone's chatter, stating their ages, their bottles clanking against the rim of the pot, children guzzling the soup and munching on the bread like it was their last meal.

Groose estimated it was about an hour after Luv had left that Kukiel was scraping the last bit of pumpkin soup into her bottle and snatching the final slice of bread. Wryna watched fondly as her daughter drank the soup, "This is all very kind of you two to give your food away. When Rupin left yesterday, I thought it was the end of all of us. Your generosity is appreciated."

"Actually," Cawlin added, "None of it's mine. All of it was Groose's."

"Really?"

"Yep," Cawlin said, smugly, "My house was robbed last night."

Wryna put a hand to her chest, "Oh, my. You might want to report that to Gaepora. I'm sure he could find the culprit." She laid a hand on Kuikel's shoulder, "But Groose, this is very thoughtful of you. I hope you've saved enough for yourself. I don't want you to go hungry, either."

"I have enough in my house, ma'am," Groose explained, folding his arms across his chest, "But I'm glad to be of help."

"Well, I'll be sure Zelda and Gaepora know of your work," Wryna began leading Kuikel back to their house, but pointed towards the north, "Speaking of which. Here she comes now."

Groose forgot to bid farewell to Wryna and Kuikel as all of his attention was drawn towards one figure, walking towards him so elegantly she looked as though she was _gliding_ across the ground, her blonde hair shining gold in the morning sunlight, her skin glistening like diamonds. She was donning her pink dress that accentuated the blueness of her eyes and fit perfectly around her figure.

"Hi, Groose," Zelda greeted, coming to a halt in front of him, a wide grin plastered on her lovely face.

Groose tried to say hello in return, but it came out as a muffled conjunction of letters. He felt his face turn a dark, hot shade of red, and Zelda merely giggled her soft laugh- Groose instantly felt weak in the knees.

"Piper told me what you two have done for the community, giving up your food for those who will be needing the nourishment most this winter. It's very noble." Zelda looked up and down the table at the set up as Cawlin began dumping breadcrumbs into a jar.

Groose scratched the back of his neck, somehow finding his voice, "Yeah, of course, Zelda. When things go wrong, you have to do what's right. If I had any left, I'd give you some." He let out a sheepish laugh.

Cawlin dropped the empty pot on the ground, " _Hey_."

Zelda shook her head, "No, no, we have enough at my house, I assure you." She bit her lip, thinking of something, "Well, would you two like to come over for dinner sometime? You could bring Strich, too."

"We would love to," Groose answered instantly.

"Wonderful," Zelda gave a polite nod and tucked her arms behind her back, taking a few shy steps back; Groose was mortified that he may have scared her. "I hope others will do what you've done."

She beamed and Groose swore his heart skipped a beat. "I'll see you around," She turned on her heel and strolled back up the path, no direction seemingly in mind. Groose grinned dopily, unable to unfix his gaze from her frame promenading along the road.

Cawlin broke the silence, "You're a lost cause, Groose."

Drawing in a deep, piteous sigh, Groose turned the fallen soup pot over and sat on the bottom, chin in his hands, "She's like a goddess."

"She _is_ a goddess, you idiot."

"No, I mean…" Groose looked at his hands, feeling like a wooden spike had been driven into his heart, "Do you think she loves Link?"

Cawlin gave him the most expressionless glare of his life, "Don't ask stupid questions, Groose."

"Oh…" He groaned, his face collapsing into his palms. It seemed that even if he gave up his own _food_ , it would make no matter. He didn't see Link out here, donating _his_ wares. Then again, he _was_ just invited to dinner by Zelda herself, so at least she didn't consider him the scum of the earth.

Regaining his confidence, Groose picked himself up and began bringing the table, pot, and plates inside, then, as Cawlin was trying to eat bread crumbs, pointed a finger out him, "Where's Strich?"

"Sleeping… probably," Cawlin answered, his expression looking somewhat offended, "Why?"

"Go get him," Ordered Groose, grabbing a dagger from where it hung on the wall, "We're going hunting."

* * *

"Now," Groose whispered, "There's a squirrel over there, and they can climb trees, which we can't- at least, not as quickly."

"Duh."

"Quiet, Cawlin."

From behind a tall, thick tree, the three of them crouched low to the ground, motionless, eyeing the third rodent they had seen in the last hour. Groose curled his hand into a fist, flexing his fingers that were growing numb in the ice cold air. He sighed in frustration- the hour they had been out in the Faron Woods, where the leaves would come down in rain showers when the wind rustled the trees, their efforts had been entirely fruitless. Granted, that was mostly in part to the lack of game, Cawlin's sarcastic comments and Strich's need to stop whenever they saw any kind of insect.

"Okay, I'm going to inch forward," Groose murmured, hoping his two comrades would be able to visualise what he wanted, "Strich, you'll come from the right, and Cawlin, you'll go on the left. When you two grab it, I'll either break its neck or slit its throat, whatever works better."

"Ooh, dark."

Strich spoke from between clenched teeth, "Don't talk, Cawlin, you'll scare the squirrel."

Groose nodded at both of them, took a deep breath, his lungs filling with cold oxygen, and began taking meticulous, steady movements towards the squirrel. The brush shrouded him from being viewed entirely as he made his way, one arm helping him crawl, the other gripping the hilt of his dagger. The poor squirrel was busy chewing away at something, unaware of his hopefully impending doom, occasionally sniffing the air.

Cawlin and Strich were now on either side of the squirrel, motionless, like cats ready to pounce. They both looked at Groose, who held up three fingers, and mouthed, _three, two, one_. Cawlin and Strich lunged at the squirrel, wrestling with it as it screeched something awful, trying to break free of their slippery grips.

"Holy shit, it bit me!" Strich howled, "I'm bleeding!"

Groose scrambled forward while the other two used all of their effort to hold the squirrel in place. Figuring using a dagger would likely maim the prospective food beyond recognition or injure the squirming Cawlin and Strich, Groose dropped his weapon, quickly placed one hand on the squirrel's head and the other on its torso and twisted in opposite directions.

The crunch that he heard was cringe-worthy, and left an uneasy feeling in Groose's stomach, but it had to be done somehow, and, as the rodent fell limp, he figured it was the most humane. He held it up victoriously for Cawlin and Strich to observe.

Strich, who was still nursing the small wound on his thumb, gave a noise of disgust.

Cawlin scoffed, "Says the guy who collects bugs!"

"Yeah, but I don't kill them," Strich said softly, "And they don't bite me."

Groose rolled his eyes, "Knock it off, you two. We're going to take this little guy back, gut him, and make tiny little squirrel steaks out of him."

Dumping the game into the cloth bag and slinging it over his shoulder, Groose began sauntering in the direction of the village.

"Wait, Groose," Strich said, still kneeling on the ground. In his hand was a tiny, yellow, disshaped chunk of something that resembled a sponge, "Look at this."

Groose took it from him and observed it, turning it around in his palm, "Hey, this is what the squirrel was gnawing on. It's… I think it's some type of gourd. That means there's still stuff growing around here!" He shoved the piece in his pocket and motioned for Cawlin and Strich to follow him, "There's got to be fruit around here somewhere. How do you think those Kikwi survive?"

It didn't take them long to find an alcove of trees with low hanging branches that bore enormous squash-like gourds, so ripe that they were soft to the touch. He was able to stuff three into each of Cawlin and Strich's bags, and, not wanting to mix them with the squirrel corpse, tied his own bag to his belt and manually carried two in his arms.

As they headed back to the village, the scent of the squash thankfully masking out that of the squirrel's, eager to cook them up, Strich spoke up.

"Groose, I know you want to give these away because you want to impress Zelda-"

"Not the reason, but go on."

"Yeah, anyway, I think you ought to make you know, 'long-term' goals," Strich made air-quotes with his free hand.

"Like what? Isn't being generous a goal?" Groose protested.

"I don't think that's your _actual_ goal," Strich muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"My point is, Groose," Strich, even on his long legs, had to lengthen his stride to keep up with him, "How much do you think someone would pay for just a bite of one of these?"

 _A/N: I hope you guys liked this new chapter. :) Leave a review and let me know what you think._


	3. Plough Deep

_Plough deep while sluggards sleep and you shall have corn to sell and to keep._

 _-Benjamin Franklin_

* * *

Groose, Cawlin, and Strich stared silently at the layout that sprawled across the table: seven gourds (the eighth had been smashed when Strich had dropped it) and the corpse of a brown squirrel, its terrified final expression frozen on its face. All three of them eyed their findings with interest, if not complete puzzlement. Though it hadn't been long since Groose had killed it, the squirrel was beginning to smell rancid, the scent sticking to the walls like sap. Groose poked it with his dagger tentatively, and its body, petrified like stale bread, turned over onto its side. Making a sound of revulsion, he wiped the blade off on his pants, though nothing had dirtied it.

He returned to his previous position, tapping his chin, eyes narrowed at the situation rotting on the table.

Cawlin broke the silence of the mid-afternoon hush with a deep breath and then an impassive comment: "I think we can all agree that one of us should've learned to cook before we brought a bunch of food back."

Groose let out a dead laugh, "Nah, I know how to cook, but I've never heard of a recipe for… squirrel and mysterious woodland gourds."

Cawlin and Strich synchronously turned on their heels and faced Groose, expressions drawn agape. Inexplicably, they spoke together, "You can _cook_?"

A look at their bewildered faces, taken aback and contorted in something Groose couldn't read, and his face fell involuntarily, "Yeah, sure I do. How have you guys been eating since we moved to the surface?"

Cawlin and Strich seemed to have no idea as to how to answer that question.

"Never mind," Groose relented, "Just give me ideas on how to cook this stuff. No one's going to eat squirrel knowingly, and I need someone to test the taste of the gourd. If it's sweet, we'll make a pie. If not, then… we'll think of something else."

"Like soup?" Cawlin asked, lifting the one smashed gourd from Groose's floor, leaving a sticky, orange puddle behind, and set it on the table.

"I'm sick of soup," Groose objected, and swiped his finger into the goo of the single smashed gourd, "And I think everyone else is, too." He tapped his fingers together, testing the consistency of the substance. It stuck to his hand, and when he pulled on it, it maintained its form but was still fluid. He took a closer look at the gourd juice, pulling a handful from the innards of the fruit, and squeezed it. When it was lax, it was liquid, but when it was strained, it took form.

Somewhat experimentally and likewise, nervous, Groose lifted his hand to his head and worked the gourd juice into his pompadour that was currently tilted to the side pathetically. The sticky juice held its form and solidified his pompadour instantly, standing upright perfectly.

He turned to Cawlin and Strich and pointed at his head eagerly, "Hey, what do you think?"

Strich shrugged, "I think you just reinvented hair gel."

"Does it look bad?" Terrified, Groose patted his pompadour, trying to realign it, smooth out the gel.

Cawlin waved a hand dismissively at Groose, obviously unenthusiastic about the conversation, "No, you look fine, whatever. Best pompadour you've ever had. Anyway," He gestured to the table, "Back to business."

Licking his fingers, Groose found that the taste of the gel was mostly sweet- his tongue found it to be a little bitter, however, and he puckered at the flavor. "Okay, Cawlin," Groose questioned, cleaning off the rest of his fingers, "If you were starving, what would fill you up the most?"

"Well, no one's _starving_ yet, but I'd say something that's really dense or thick, heavy in oils, you know? So rich it gives you hiccups," Cawlin reasoned.

"Hmm…" Groose opened the small kitchen cupboard that ventilated cold air in from outside to refrigerate certain goods. Pulling out the tub of butter and sticking it on the table beside the other gourds, he said, "We'll make something like pumpkin bread, only with… whatever this is. Let's call it…" he paused, reaching over to snatch the half-empty bag of flour and a large baking pan, "... Three o'clock gourd bread."

Cawlin huffed, "That's unoriginal."

"Well, it's three o'clock now," Groose rationalized, dumping the flour into a mixing bowl. He turned the gourd on its side and sliced off the top, reaching his hand inside and gutting it to save for hair gel, then proceeded to chop the rind into tiny bits. "Hence, Three O'clock Gourd Bread. Do you have a better suggestion?"

Cawlin clapped his hands together in mock excitement, "I don't know. How about _anything_? Like forest gourds, or something."

Smiling meekly, Strich though aloud, "Three O'Clock is a little better than Forest. Though, personally, I would've liked Spider Gourd Bread."

"Who on _earth_ would eat that?!" Cawlin exclaimed, but Strich was already helping Groose mix the rind chunks with the flour and butter. It had become a smooth mixture once he added the water and Groose shook the satchel of sugar, granules trickling out from a hole like ink from a quill.

"There's not much sugar left," Groose said spitefully, "I meant to go buy more from Rupin, but obviously it's all with the Mogmas now, so once we use it for this, that's it. As for eggs, I don't have any."

With a long arm, Strich pulled gel from the pile Groose had set aside, hovering his hand over the bowl tenaciously, "Use this instead of eggs. It's edible and is about the same consistency."

Groose felt a pang of vanity as Strich opened his palm for him to see. An invention he had just made for himself, something he had been wanting longingly for months that could _really_ make him look nice hung over the bowl that would become bread for people who had never done the justice of trusting him, even after they traveled to the surface. When he forced himself to nod, Strich was scanning his expression intuitively. With a _plop_ , the gel landed among the mixture.

"Don't worry, Groose," Strich sighed, "There are a lot of gourds. You won't run out of hair gel."

Ashamed of being so superficial- even for him, really- Groose began aggressively mixing the concoction, and soon, when it was as smooth, he poured it into the bread pan and placed it within the wood burning oven.

"How does five rupees per slice sound?" He asked, but as the scent of something other than pumpkin soup filled his house for the first time in months, he reconsidered, "Or maybe ten."

Strich looked as if he was about to add something, but Groose read his mind, "And as for the squirrel, I guess we could fry him up and just not mention that it's squirrel they're eating."

"Alright, but I'm not cleaning it," Cawlin declared.

"Me neither."

"You two are wimps," Groose sneered and flipped his dagger in his hand, grabbing the squirrel by its head and taking it over to the counter.

* * *

Cooking consumed the entire day, filling Groose's house with dense smoke at first, but soon, the scent of the fruit's sugar bubbling in the heat of the oven wafted through the air and out the windows. Several hours crawled their way across the clock, producing a dozen fine loaves of sweet smelling bread, and a bowl of white meat peppered with spices and a thin gravy, but once their second layout of the day had exhausted all of Groose's materials, nearly two hours of daylight remained.

Cawlin and Strich assisted in slicing the loaves of bread into the smallest width possible in an effort to, of course, have more to go around, and as a shameless effort to scam the villagers into forking over more rupees. But, hey- padding his prices was only for the insurance of Hyrule, he would assure.

Groose needn't call out to his customers, because the bread did exactly that in his stead. Noses that had grown immune to the smell of a diet based solely on pumpkins for months were tuned to _anything_ different, and so within minutes, Gully was yanking on his mother's sleeve as they passed by.

"Mommy, look!" He cried, jumping up and down as Piper tried to balance a large jar in her arms, "Groose is giving away food again! I'm hungry!"

Piper sighed, but Groose knew resistance was futile. She looked at the sign, then back at her son, and when she sniffed the richly scented air and eyed the table longingly, Groose gave a small wave, and it was only seconds before she gave in, and she directed herself towards the table.

"I don't want to seem greedy," Piper said to Groose, prying Gully's hands off of her arm, "But Gully here is hungry, and I know we've already taken a generous meal today, but-"

Groose cut her off, flashed her a dashing smile, "Not to worry, ma'am, you're welcome to anything you'd like. Today we have a bread made from the finest forest gourds. It's called Three O'Clock Bread, made by yours truly." He gestured to Cawlin and Strich who shot sharp glares at him, "And these two helped."

"And this is?" Piper asked, eyeing the squirrel meat curiously.

Groose suddenly drew a blank, his eyes went wide and his mouth dry. Cawlin nudged him with his elbow and Groose cleared his throat. "This is, uh… _definitely_ meat." Groose clarified, rubbing his hands together, "Meat that you would love to eat, I know it. Super tasty. There's actually a game involved in this, you know?"

"A game?" Piper gasped, a tight smile forming on her lips.

"A game?" Cawlin and Strich said in sync again.

"Yes, of course," Groose gestured so wildly that he smacked Cawlin in the face. Telling himself he was most certainly, _positively_ an actor in a previous life, Groose continued his ruse. "The prize is an extra slice of bread," he elaborated, "It's your job to guess what kind of meat is in here, and if you guess correctly, one of these lucky little slices is yours to keep." He pointed at the tray of bread and his fingers might as well have been shooting out glitter.

"A whole extra slice?" Piper pondered as Groose drove his heel into Cawlin's foot when the latter began to question his improvisation.

Piper laughed, "Well, why not?" She hoisted her son into the air so as to give him a full view of the table, "Gully, honey, what do you think this kind of meat is?"

Groose waited anxiously, his heart hammering in his chest as Gully took his sweet time pondering every single animal under the sun. If the kid guessed something obscure, he would _have_ to say no, because no one wants to eat moles or rats. But if he said something relatively normal, that someone would _want_ to eat, then it would be easy to say he was correct, take the money, and send him on his way. It was an experiment, Groose supposed. If he could find out what people liked most, he'd stick a label on said food, and like fish migrating for the winter, his wallet would be full for prime pickings.

Gully hummed for a full minute at the bowl, and Groose resisted the urge to sigh melodramatically. His stand had caught the attention of the other villagers and more were strolling- almost trying in vain to look inconspicuous- towards the line.

Finally, the child gasped aloud and shouted, "It's squirrel! You're selling squirrel, Groose!"

If it was possible for someone's face to shatter, Groose would've been standing in a billion shards of his own expression. Cawlin turned an all-knowing smirk towards Groose, and the latter tried horribly to ignore it. Gully's words had caught the attention of those who were moseying towards the stand, and though Groose had expected them to scurry away in disgust, the mention of the word seemed to tantalize them more, and soon, a crowd had gathered around Piper and Gully.

"Ding ding ding…" Groose said pathetically, feigning enthusiasm, "We have a winner."

"Yay!" Gully cried gleefully, once more pulling endlessly on his mother's sleeve and rocketing off the ground as if on springs, "Mommy, I won, I won! We get another slice of bread! Isn't that _wonderful_!?" He took off, spinning in circles, and Piper hadn't the effort to chase after him and so she remained in her place, her face scrunching into an expression of revulsion.

"It's… squirrel?" Piper said loathsomely, her eyes not daring to leave the large bowl of fried chunks of meat. She shook her head in disbelief, "I didn't know squirrels had that much on them."

"Amazing little creatures, they are," Groose said softly, unfeelingly. He hadn't looked away from the bowl, either, but he could feel the entire gaze of the line behind her, all eyes watching tentatively for his reaction. "But, I…" Groose put on his noblest face and looked onward, "I went out into the wild unknown of the forest, slayed this squirrel in the most humane of fashions."

Cawlin made a gesture that resembled the snapping of a neck, and Strich promptly elbowed him.

"That squirrel," Groose continued, now addressing the entire crowd, "Is chopped up into tiny, bite sized chunks in this bowl for the sole reason that I think this town deserves it. We're survivors, aren't we?! So ma'am," He bowed his head at Piper, furrowed his brow in mock despair, "As a fellow survivor, would you eat some squirrel?"

Looking slightly disturbed, Piper bit her lip and nodded, "Food is food."

Without flinching, Groose said, "Thank you, that'll be twenty rupees."

Piper blinked several times, "Wait, it costs money this time?"

"Of course it does," Groose, unperturbed, ran a hand through his pompadour, "I have to live, too, don't I?"

Strich interrupted, stumbling over his words, "W-what he means to say is, th-that-"

"I know what I mean, Strich," Groose placed his hands on his hips, straightening his back to his full height. The crowd had begun to mutter amongst themselves, and Groose decided to put them at ease- he could handle this, "You see, ma'am, the free giveaway this morning was… let's say a _promotional_ endeavor. This stuff's the real deal, no back-of-the-pantry goods. It took hard labor to get and make this stuff that you soon will be feeding your family."

" _If_ I buy it," Piper hissed.

"I think by the time I'm done talking here, you _will_ have bought it, because you care about your family and community," Groose reasoned daringly, inducing a gasp and a nearly tangible feeling of awkwardness from the crowd. "You see, Rupin's shop might have closed, but people still have things to sell. Gondo still has little machines to tinker on in his house, and if you asked, he could probably improve something you already own. Luv and Bertie might not have their supplies to make a potion, but if you _gave_ them something to work with, or even _sold_ it to them, then they could make goods from it and sell it to either you, or others. I'm stimulating the economy, fellow citizens of Hyrule."

In all honesty, Groose did not expect the applause that followed, but he went along with it, a smug smirk working its way into his smile.

Silence fell as Piper set down her jar and fished around in her pocket. Pulling out a red rupee and sliding it on the table almost shamefully, she took her two slices of bread and took one rather liberal spoon of squirrel meat and shoveled it into her jar.

"Thank you ma'am, and good day," Groose flashed a killer grin as she left silently, her head held high as she beckoned Gully towards her.

That single victory led to a landslide of people pulling out their wallets, shuffling and pushing to get their share at the front of the line. Groose was actually astonished that Piper had bought the food when he'd practically scammed her into it, and furthermore, that anyone else trusted him afterwards. At one end of the line, Cawlin handed out slices of bread, slapping children's fingers if they tried to take more than one; in the middle, Strich scooped out one spoonful rations of squirrel meat until it was soon gone; at the end, Groose collected rupees into a crate with a base soon covered by a rainbow of gems. Men and women, young and old, had deposited their own money into his hands and it soon became apparent that it didn't matter what he sold and for how much- he had the upper hand here.

The line was slimming down to the last remaining people, and just in time. Groose looked up at the sky to find the west tinted a dull orange as the last daylight hid beneath the horizon. He handed Orielle her change, and shouted, "Next!"

"Groose!" Before him stood Zelda, leaning over the table, hands positioned defiantly on her hips.

Taking an indulgent look at her before answering, he noticed she didn't have any food with her, "Well, Zelda, I can't take your rupees if you're not buying anything."

She answered back hotly, "I'm _not_ buying anything, Groose."

Groose could very well see that she was seething and not a force to be reckoned with, but decided to continue teasing her, "Well, why wait in line? If you wanted to talk to me, you just could've asked."

To his surprise, Zelda answered far differently than he would've anticipated, but with an even stronger bite to her words, "Actually, I _do_ want to talk to you."

Groose's heart jumped into his throat and he suddenly found himself very dizzy, "Anything for you."

"Sure," Zelda deadpanned.

Groose called out to Strich, who was standing idly beside the now empty meat bowl and ordered him to man the final station. He obliged, and Groose stepped out from behind the table and led Zelda into the long stretch of road. The walked southward, away from the village for a few minutes, Zelda's face giving him an inclination to what she was thinking, perhaps organizing her thoughts before she spoke. How regal, even mature of her. It seemed that every day that passed since she reawakened as The Goddess, she grew into more of an adult than those twenty or thirty years her senior. It was a marvel to watch her think- _she_ was a marvel, and Groose reveled in her presence.

"Groose," Zelda sighed, frustrated, looking up at the sky, which had begun to dot itself with stars and planets, "We all appreciated what you did this morning, it really helped out and calmed all the villagers down. But…" She turned to Groose, who found her presence so overwhelming that he had to look away.

Finding her words, she continued, "But, it's not right of you to charge people for it. You can't make a profit on people when they have no other choice; it's not right. When Link was on his quest to seal away Demise, he never took advantage of people. When he helped them, the only reward he sought was their gratitude."

Groose snorted, "I'm sure."

"Look, Groose, I know you might not have always liked Link, but he's honest and kind, I assure you. There's no reason for you to dislike him. I thought you had buried that hatchet."

There really _was_ a reason Groose still felt spiteful towards Link, and it wasn't because he was the hero, or that he won the Wing Ceremony. It was a reason that had refused to die along with the evil in the world, and she stood before him in that instant, skin pale under the dark of night, blonde hair framing her face. He'd rip out his own heart if it meant he'd stop pining in vain after Zelda, because it'd sure as hell be a lot less painful than watch her run into the sunset with Link.

"I have," Groose lied, "I don't have anything against Link. But besides," He folded his arms close to his chest, "That's not the point. I'm selling things because that's what's best for us in the end."

When Zelda merely glared at him with a raised brow, he continued, "C'mon, Zelda, you know what I mean. You don't think I'd just hoard all this money without anything to spend it on, do you?" He gestured towards the village behind him, "If I provide goods to the people of Hyrule, and in return, get paid, I can buy things from them. I explained this to the customers, and they thought it was a great idea."

"But no one _has_ anything, Groose."

"They do, really. Everyone has something," Groose explained, "The stand I set up this morning was entirely made of my own things, you know?"

Still skeptical, Zelda folded her arms as well and faced him recalcitrantly, "Oh yeah? Then what are you going to do? Buy the villager's sugar and flour until there's nothing left?"

"I shouldn't have to explain this to you, Zelda. It's simple economics."

"Don't belittle me. I understand economics. I just don't understand you."

Hurt, Groose pouted and recoiled, "All I meant was that what I'm doing is beneficial. With the money I earn, I'll buy small things off of the villagers, embellish them, and resell them to keep the money within the community flowing. There's nothing malicious about it."

Zelda huffed, "While that may work, do you _really_ think the villagers are interested in novelty items?" She pointed an accusatory finger at Groose, "And are you _sure_ you don't have any ulterior motives?"

Well, she had him there, "Of course not. I'm genuinely doing something good for once. It's about time I ought to."

Frustrated, Zelda stomped her foot into the cold earth. Her face grew hot with anger, a bright pink even Groose could pick out in the darkness as she took the defensive stance she nearly always did when she had a point to set straight. "Look, Groose," She seethed, "I know Link and I have had a bone to pick with you in the past, but you've already _proved_ your worth. We trust you now. You don't have to go to outlandish lengths to demonstrate that you've turned over a new leaf."

Groose frowned, and though he stood several inches taller than her, he felt suddenly very small. She was spirited alright, feisty, even, and could hold her own as well as any knight double her age could. But as Groose watched her exasperated face and her body heaving with infuriated breaths, he realized that he might not have been the only one to change from their quest against Demise. But _damn_ , was she beautiful when she was passionate, and because of that, Groose was hopeless.

"Maybe I haven't turned over a new leaf," He egged her on, "Maybe this is just how I am: a good person."

"Well, if that's how it is," Zelda said defiantly, her voice remarkably calm for how furious she had been a moment ago, "Then this had better be a permanent endeavor, Groose. If you think you can provide the community with the means to survive this winter, then I'd love to see your stand out everyday."

Groose probably would've said something ridiculous or unintelligent as he was growing weary of bantering back and forth with her, but thankfully, the sound of boots treading the path from the heart of the village interrupted their quarrel.

Zelda seemed to be in tune to the sound of these steps because she spun on her heel and her face instantly lit up, "Link!"

As Zelda left Groose's side almost eagerly, he could make out the form of Link jogging towards them, still dressed as a knight like many others did. But as he grew closer, he could see that another figure was beside him as Link greeted Zelda: Pipit.

While Groose didn't have any intentions upon joining the little rendezvous that had just formed, Link made a grandiose gesture with his arm that he would have a hard time pretending he didn't see, and so he was forced to walk towards them.

As he neared, the sounds of the conversation became audible.

"...and I checked _everywhere,_ Zelda, I really did. Her house, the Sealed Temple, I asked countless people-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Groose waved his hands and Pipit stopped rambling long enough to catch his breath, "What's going on?"

Before Pipit could exhaust himself again, Link spoke in his stead, "Karane's gone missing."

"Aw, now, I'm sure she's still here. You just haven't searched enough, that's it." Clearly, it was not the right thing to say, because Pipit became livid, practically steaming and stepped dauntingly in front of Groose. He was hardly any taller than Link and posed little threat, but Groose still found himself taking a step back.

"My girlfriend is _missing_ ," Pipit poked him audaciously in the chest, "I know you might have never _cared_ about anyone besides yourself, but I _do_." Zelda and Link seemed to shrink out of the circle as Pipit continued, "This is a brand new world we know nothing about and Karane is _gone_ and it's night. Don't tell me I haven't searched enough." Very nearly trembling, Pipit heaved with fury; but such accusations upon Groose were enough to boil his blood into white hot rage and if it hadn't been for Link, a fight very well could've broken out.

"Knock it off, you two," Link ordered, stepping between the two before Groose could take a very satisfying swing at Pipit's face, "There's no good in fighting right now- it won't help us find Karane."

Even though Link could fight with agility and strength unheard of, he really was a peacekeeper, as Groose noticed. In fact, the Surface might have changed Groose and Zelda, but Link remained constant, as he always did, which was irritating to no end- everyone had to have flaws, didn't they?

"Link's right," Zelda agreed- of course she agreed- and stood by his side, "I'll tell my father tonight and tomorrow morning we'll send out a search party to look for her. It's no use searching in the dark where others could get lost." She glanced at Pipit with a look of pity, his face contorted with worry. Hastily, she added, "She couldn't have gone far, Pipit, so cheer up. About that, Groose is correct." She turned her gaze at Groose, and no matter how hurt or furious he was, his knees could hardly hold himself up when she looked at him like that, "We haven't searched enough."

Pipit nodded dejectedly, "I suppose. I'm going to bed now. Thanks, guys." He shuffled off in the direction of his house, yellow uniform visible even at night.

Zelda took hold of Link's arm gently, "I'll head home, too. I'll see you tomorrow morning when we can go look for her." She gave his wrist a squeeze, "I didn't think the Surface would cause this much trouble without the help of evil forces. Goodnight."

Without thinking, Groose added, "I don't think it's the Surface that's causing problems."

She gave him a look that, even if it the earth was bathed in daylight, he wouldn't have been able to discern, and trotted off towards her house.

A painfully unpleasant silence fell over Link and Groose. Just when Groose thought Link was going to walk home without saying anything, he spoke, "Are you going to join us tomorrow?"

"What?"

"To go look for Karane," Link elaborated, kicking the dirt with his boot, "You're a knight, too. We could really use your help."

Had it been anyone else saying this- no, had it been _Zelda_ \- he would've been almost flattered, but instead he let out a sheepish laugh, "Neither of us were ever knights, Link. Granted, you got closer than I ever did, but the whole institution doesn't exist any more."

"You helped save the world, Groose," Link said, "I think that's knight enough for me."

And with that, he strode off for his own house, and Groose was left to drag himself home. The tables outside had already been taken down, thanks to Cawlin and Strich, and Groose was pleased they hadn't left that work for him. Inside, the two were seated at his table, each eating a slice of Three O'Clock Bread in the light of a few lanterns.

"Hey, you're back!" Strich exclaimed, his mouth full of food, "Take a look at this." He beckoned Cawlin over to the other side of the table and the two of them lifted an enormous crate onto the table, buckling under its weight. Spilling over the edge were a rainbow of countless rupees, clinking together like the sweet sound of bells. Groose dug his hand into the crate, feeling the cold stones scrape his skin as he pulled out a handful of gems. In his palm alone he counted thirty seven rupees.

"Damn," Groose breathed, astonished, "How much did we make?"

"Three hundred forty eight rupees," Cawlin declared, "And there are still five loaves left that we can sell tomorrow morning."

Groose looked at his friends' exuberant expressions, lit up with a joy he hadn't seen since they left Skyloft, and found it was impossible not to grin in return.

"But here's the thing," Groose shook his smile off his face, "Karane's gone missing, guys. They're sending out a search party tomorrow morning. I don't know if we can sell breakfast tomorrow."

Cawlin dropped his slice of bread, "She's _missing_?!" Groose suddenly remembered the horrible infatuation Cawlin had with Karane and felt guilty for breaking the news so nonchalantly.

"Yeah," He confirmed, trying futilely to lighten the mood, "But I'm sure she's fine, I mean… There really aren't any threats out in the forest, and I doubt she went far."

"She's missing," Cawlin wailed, slamming his head into the table. "My house has been robbed and now Karane's missing. Next thing they'll be stealing Strich's bug collection."

Strich looked visibly distressed, "Don't talk like that. I'm sure everything's going to be okay. But think of poor Pipit."

Cawlin shot Strich a glare so sharp it nearly shredded the air between them and moaned, "I wish we were back in Skyloft. You couldn't go missing there. It's so small."

"Doesn't matter now," Fed up with the two of them wallowing in their own pity, Groose made a decision, "Okay, go home, get some sleep, and tomorrow, you two can set up and run the store and I'm going to go with the others to search for Karane."

"Why do we have to stay behind?" Strich asked, but nonetheless, the two were already standing halfway out the door.

"It's the most important job," Groose assured, "You'll keep the villagers happy. This way, they won't panic about a missing person." Looking at their expectant faces, he sighed dramatically, "And I'll pay you. Consider yourself hired."

Cawlin and Strich high-fived each other, heading towards their houses, rambling about all the things they would buy from the other villagers who would have no choice but to give up their goods.

Bidding them goodbye, Groose closed the door and collapsed on his bed, not bothering to change out of his clothes. A permanent endeavor, huh? That's how Zelda had put it, and he doubted she actually expected him to go through with it. But, he could- as long as he had money and goods, and as long as the money was going back into the community to make a full circle- and therefore, he _would_. If being a generous citizen wouldn't _impress_ Zelda, then he'd do it to spite her.

 _A/N: I hope you enjoyed! In case you were wondering, it's (unoriginally) called Three O'Clock Bread as an inside joke with my friend after I told her how I woke up at 1:45 a.m. to the sound of the church bells, and my first thought was "It's 3pm in Grooseland". So there's that._ _I would advise having some kind of character guide out for this story, because all the characters on Skyloft do have names, but are tricky to know from just the guide. Zelda Wiki is especially helpful. Leave a review if you get the chance!_


	4. Want of Care

_Want of care does us more damage than want of knowledge._

 _-Benjamin Franklin_

* * *

"Really, Groose, it's five in the morning," Gondo spoke from behind clenched teeth, lifting crates onto the table, "I don't see why you think I can help you."

Groose stood idly, the light of the candles casting long shadows across the small wooden home, distorting the figure of malfunctioned inventions and intimidating machinery into unrecognizable, eerie terrors. Gondo hadn't left his house since Rupin ran away to the Mogmas, except for to get food, and in that short time, seemed to have taken all hell out on the scraps of metal lying around. "When it's all said and done, it won't be me that you're helping- the entire village will benefit."

"Yeah, yeah," Gondo sighed heavily, placing his hands on his hips, "Quit trying to butter me up. Why do you need me to get all my tools out? I don't have anything to make, you know that."

"You might not have anything to make," Groose explained, taking the large sack off of his shoulder and dropping it on the table beside the tools with a huge crashing noise, "But I have things you can improve." He opened the burlap sack and on the table spilled out an old slingshot, a rusting axe, a crudely chipped tea set, and various small tools that Groose had brought down from Skyloft.

Gondo examined the items carefully, scrutinizing the conditions, lifting them up to eye level like a jeweler. He gently ran his finger along the blade of the axe, bits of red, powdery rust crumbling off onto his skin and the table. The axe hadn't been used much after all the houses had been built, and so the metal still held a bite to it, as Gondo soon found out as he quickly removed his fingers. The teapot and cups weren't in bad condition, merely chipped and dirty from lack of care, and the slingshot was missing splinters of wood and the elastic had gone lax. As for the tools, many of them merely needed to be sharpened or cleaned.

"It's nothing too fancy," Gondo concluded, stepping back, "I could get it done by this afternoon, but it's going to cost you a bit, but that seems to be your goal, so…"

"How much?" Groose asked eagerly, pulling his wallet off his belt.

Gondo took a look once more at the tools sprawled out like a child's toys before him and appraised them, "A good one hundred fifty rupees."

While it really was a costly number, and normally if someone charged him that, he wouldn't have hesitated in causing a ruckus, declaring injustice, but if all went according to plan, Gondo would be using this money on his meals or anything else he'd manage to palm off of the other villagers.

Giving a slightly disgruntled reply- just so Gondo would know he couldn't set his prices as high as he pleased- Groose slapped down several red and blue rupees onto the table. With his great, enormous hands, Gondo clutched the gems like a bundle of particularly shiny flowers and dumped them into a crate sitting idly on the floor.

"Thank you very much, sir," Groose gave a bow of his head and stuck his most gracious grin on his face, "You've done a real service." _A real service proving to Zelda that I can do something good without any malicious intent._

"Yeah, whatever," Gondo pulled a rag off his belt, dowsed it in a murky oil, and began wiping the tea set, "Just go do whatever and I'll drop it off at your place this afternoon."

"Actually," Groose admitted, "I'm part of the expedition to search for Karane, so you'll just have to give it to Cawlin and Strich- they'll be outside running the stand."

"Sure, you got it," Gondo deadpanned, already engrossed in his work. Groose took that as his cue to get out of there, and within moments, he was greeted by the sharp air of the autumn morning. It would be another hour and a half before rays of sun would jut through the fortress of trees- even then, he suspected it wouldn't get much warmer.

He readjusted his cloak over his shoulders- dark green, and if he was being honest, was more for show rather than warmth- and started towards the northern part of the village, his boots against the well-worn path being the only noise in the darkness. Before he traveled to the meeting place- Zelda's house- he stopped in front of Cawlin's house and rapped on the door several times.

In all likelihood, Cawlin would still be fast asleep, forgetful of Groose's orders the past night, and so it was probably a good idea that he would be here to give him a friendly- if not threatening- reminder. No noise came from behind the door after a few long minutes, and so he tried a second time.

"Cawlin!" Groose pounded his fist on the door again, "Get up, dammit!" He waited a few seconds more, and had raised his hand to knock once more, but lowered it when he heard a few muffled obscenities and the sound of feet thudding across the floor. The door swung open violently, nearly hitting Groose in the face as it gave way to reveal Cawlin standing in his pajamas, agitated and flustered.

"What is it, Groose?" He snapped, unable to look him in the eye.

"You're going to set up the stand today, right?"

Cawlin stood silently for a moment, frozen to the ground, and Groose nearly thought he had fallen asleep standing in his doorframe, but he rubbed his eyes and responded.

"Yeah, of course. Just lay out the bread," He made a delirious gesture that looked somewhat like he was dealing out cards, "And sell it for some rupees."

"Ten rupees," Groose specified.

"Ten rupees," Cawlin clarified sleepily, "We take their money and then you'll pay us. Can I go back to bed now?"

"Sure. I'll go wake up Strich and tell him the same thing."

Suddenly, Cawlin seemed wide awake, "No, no, no, you don't have to do that." He laughed sheepishly, "I can go over to his house and tell him in a little bit."

"Why? His house is on the way to where I'm headed," He pointed northward, his brow furrowed in confusion, "It's no trouble."

" _No_ ," Cawlin insisted, grabbing Groose's arm, "I can definitely do that myself. You're already stressed enough as is- you don't want to open the door and have a million, uh… spiders come stampeding out, do you? That's what it's like at his house."

Groose gave him an incredulous look and huffed, "Whatever. Just sell the bread. Oh, and Gondo will be over later to drop some stuff off. Make sure you take it and put it inside the house. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Oh, and can I borrow your dagger? I can't seem to find mine."

To his surprise, Cawlin stepped away for a moment and immediately returned with his own dagger in hand, stuffing it in Groose's awaiting palm.

"Thanks, I owe you," Groose pocketed the knife and waved a quick goodbye.

Cawlin yawned, and slammed the door shut just as quickly as he had opened it. Groose gave a huff of discontent and began sauntering off towards the head of the village, the biggest house.

From what he could tell, he'd be the first one there, which was good, he supposed, because Zelda would emerge from her house, probably looking adorably vallant in one of the knight's uniforms, her long, golden hair braided loosely down her back- and Groose would be standing there nonchalantly, his hair styled perfectly, his uniform fresh and fitting perfectly as he flipped his dagger in his hand casually. He'd act surprised to see her, flash her a shy grin, and when she blushed, he'd say, "Say, aren't you a little late?"

But all of this never played out, because Groose arrived outside the house at the exact same time as Pipit, whose gait was like that of a tin soldier's, only somewhat happier- surprising, considering that his girlfriend was missing. Groose sighed heavily, his daydream being sawn in half by Pipit's appearance.

"Good morning, Groose," Pipit said, taking in a deep, fresh breath of morning air. He exhaled, and a little cloud left his mouth, "Sorry we had to have a bit of a disagreement last night. We were all scared, of course, but that's no matter now- fear will get us nowhere."

He stuck out his hand for Groose to shake and he accepted, however reluctantly. "Yeah," Groose said, taken slightly aback, "She's out there, for sure. No need to worry." He raised an eyebrow, wondering if he was helping Pipit's mental state at all- but then again, who cared?

"I'm pumped for this, are you?" Pipit began bouncing on his heels, an athlete warming up, "We're going to get out there, kick some butt, and Karane will come running to me, tears of relief running down her face and she'll leap into my arms…" Dreamily, Pipit trailed off, and while his ramblings sounded _very_ familiar, Groose suddenly found the ground rather interesting. On a whim, he changed the subject.

"Have you got a weapon, Pipit?"

"A weapon?" Pipit scoffed incredulously, "Why would I need a weapon?"

Seizing the opportunity to expand Pipit's knowledge of his previous adventure on the surface, he continued, putting on his best expression of nostalgia, "Well, this place is really rough, you know. The monsters might be gone, but you haven't seen the least of the creatures around here."

"I saw the Kikwi. They're not scary."

"Oh, no, no," Groose shook his head wildly, "They might be cute and innocent, but their leader is three times the size of a man- huge, could crush you with his foot if he wanted. But that's not all: there's another whole tribe of marine creatures with three really long tentacles," He waved his arms, wiggling them like jelly. "They have two beady yellow eyes on either side of their head and a snout shaped like a straw, probably filled with countless rows of teeth. They look like they're from another world as they propel themselves through the water, Pipit. The Parella are really a sight to see."

Pipit paled, "Th-they can't really be _that_ many of them in the lake. What if Karane went swimming there?! Oh gods, she might've drowned…"

Groose bit his lip and looked up at the trees above, as if he might see some kind of meaning in them, "But they're not the worst part."

Pipit looked as if he might faint.

"A dragon…" Groose whispered with a riveting tone, quiet enough to hear Pipt whimper, "A dragon guards Lake Floria with wings the size of trees and a body as giant and powerful as a waterfall. And you know what? Link tells me she doesn't take kindly to strangers."

"He _said_ that?!" Pipit screeched, his face in his hands. Peeking out between his fingers, he asked, "Groose? Do you, you know, have an extra knife?"

 _Ah, yes_. Pipit was _exactly_ where Groose wanted him. Sliding his hand under his cloak, he felt around for Cawlin's dagger, strung from his belt beside his own. He might have told Cawlin a white lie, but in the long run, it was necessary. Groose pulled out Cawlin's dagger and displayed it on his palm, "I do, as a matter of fact. I have this one extra."

"Oh, thank the gods," Pipit, relieved, made a grab for it, but Groose nimbly yanked it out of the way.

"But, things like these are pretty difficult to come by around here, and while you're a pretty cool guy, I can't just let it go. How does eighty rupees sound?"

Pipit made a pained sound, as if giving up the money would wound him. But just as Groose had hoped- and planned- Pipit pulled his wallet out of his pocket and fished around inside it. Presenting four red rupees, Groose snatched them easily and handed Cawlin's dagger over to Pipit. He'd have to make it up to Cawlin eventually, but that wasn't important now.

"Thanks, Groose," Pipit unsheathed the dagger and examined it closely before tying it to his belt. He seemed thoroughly shaken, if not traumatized, but Groose had made a sale, and over half of what he had lost to Gondo had been regained- not only that, but Pipit was now a customer and could set in a good word for him.

He probably would've filled the silence with uncomfortable small-talk, if not for the creaking of a door that filled and echoed throughout the whole village. Groose and Pipit turned their attention to the big house, and much to Groose's joy, Zelda walked out, dressed as he had predicted- in a navy blue knights uniform- and her golden hair tied neatly in the back. His heart shamelessly raced a speed that even the swiftest birds would envy as she strode towards them, and he might have even asked her if she was running a little late if not for one thing.

Following behind her, leaving the house in his signature green uniform with a sword and shield strapped against his back, was Link.

Groose's heart stopped hammering and instead hurtled to the ground and shattered into a billion pieces. Embarrassed by his own thoughts, he felt his face heat up in the- thankfully- dark morning, burning a shade brighter than his own hair.

Followed by Link was Gaepora, which put him a little at ease; surely, nothing could've _really_ happened with him around. Perhaps Link just stopped over earlier this morning to discuss things with Zelda, or maybe he fell asleep on a sofa after having a conversation with Gaepora? All reasonable predicaments, he was sure. But Link had an unfaltering grin on his face that would've been _easy_ to punch off. Fun, even. And for that, Groose felt suddenly ill.

Gaepora clapped his hands to initiate the meeting, "Thank you, you four, for being so courageous as to search for a fellow knight-"

"WAIT!" Came a loud, but easily recognizable cry, "Wait for me!"

Hurdling into the group tumbled Fledge, exhausted from running, "I… want to help… too." He breathed heavily, hands on his thighs as he struggled to catch his breath.

"No need to exert yourself," Gaepora laughed to himself, but the rest were too stunned by Fledge's sudden appearance that they just stared at him.

"The more the merrier," Pipit mused, and offered for Fledge to stand beside him.

"Anyway," Gaepora continued, his colorful and elegant robes sweeping to the side in the wind, "Now that we're all here, I'd like to give out specific directions to ensure no one else gets lost or injured. First and foremost, we'll break you into two groups in order to cover the most ground. However," He shot a stern glare at all of them, "It is _paramount_ that you stay in these groups and do not venture out by yourselves."

Groose found himself eyeing Zelda- with luck, he'd be in her group. With even _more_ luck, they'd be the group of two and she could watch him valiantly blaze the way through the forest and rescue Karane _without_ Link.

"Pipit, Zelda, and Link," Gaepora pointed to his daughter and the others, "You're a group."

Groose inwardly groaned, that meant he was stuck with…

"Fledge, you and Groose will be traveling together."

To be honest, Groose would not have been surprised if Fledge took off and sprinted back towards his house. Never having been the best of allies, or even classmates, considering how much Groose had bullied him over the years, it was going to be wildly uncomfortable to work together. As Groose looked at Fledge and he returned the stare, his eyes widened like an animal being hunted, he knew it would be a lot easier to just run into the forest and never come back.

"Secondly," Gaepora said, his words muffled by his facial hair, "If you find Karane, shoot up these flares." He displayed two red cylinders in his palm, both about the size of his palm. When Groose gave him a bewildered look, Gaepora continued, "Link and Zelda were hard at work making these last night." Well, at least now Groose knew what they were doing.

"Using a powder traded from the wandering Goron, they created two explosives that will send off a flare into the sky when the string is pulled. However, do _not_ use them unless absolutely necessary. They are only to be triggered if you find Karane, no matter what state she's in…" Pipit visibly flinched.

"Or, if you are in mortal danger. The latter is unlikely, due to the calm nature of the forest and that the sun will will soon rise," Gaepora finished, gesturing to the horizon that was glowing with the precursors of dawn. "Are there any questions?"

Suddenly remembering what Wryna had said the previous day, Groose spoke up, "Cawlin's house was robbed yesterday. He was wondering if you could investigate it."

Fledge gasped, "Just now? His house was robbed?"

"No; it was robbed yesterday morning. But with all the chaos neither of us got around to reporting it."

"That's _really_ terrible!" Zelda exclaimed, "I can't even think of anyone who would do that!"

"Well, thank you for reporting it, Groose," Gaepora gave a meek smile, "I will speak with Cawlin later, but for now, I wish all of you luck." With a graceful turn of his hand, he handed one flare to Groose, and the other to Zelda.

Only now did Groose suddenly feel a tightness in his gut, an inexplicable fear growing like a forest fire and bringing drops of sweat to his neck, even in the chilly air. It wasn't, of course, like he hadn't been in the forest before now, but somehow, as they marched between the towering trees that blotted out what little light there was, the woods felt foreign. Soon, they were surrounded by trees that jutted so far into the heavens, he couldn't see the tops, only where they melded together to form one, great canopy. He wondered how he could've ever marveled at the sight of a tree back in Skyloft.

They agreed that Link, Zelda, and Pipit would travel to the left, and Fledge and Groose would go to the right. At noon, they would return to that spot and further elaborate a plan to find Karane, if merely looking didn't accomplish anything. And so, Groose and Fledge trekked eastward, stepping carefully over sharp rocks and fallen branches far into the depths of the woods.

After a nearly intolerable fifteen minutes of dead silence between the two, as a dense morning fog began settling into the forest like a thick blanket, the sun not yet high enough to burn it off. Groose knew there was more to the forest, more spacious regions, but the more rugged regions had to be first conquered.

"I, uh… wonder why all these weird things are happening," Groose found it incredibly difficult to speak, "You know, Rupin taking off, Cawlin's house being robbed, Karane going missing… the works. It makes me wonder if we really should've just stayed in Skyloft."

Fledge said nothing.

"These woods are pretty big, huh? It's gonna be pretty hard to find Karane in here, don't you think?"

After another minute of silence, Groose let out a huff of frustration, "Look, Fledge, I know we've never exactly gotten along, but what d'ya say we, I don't know, burry the hatchet or something?" He sighed heavily, "I'm… sorry, okay? Sorry for making your life a miserable hell back on Skyloft."

Fledge was already a small guy, but he seemed to be making himself even tinier in comparison to Groose. "It's okay," He whimpered, not exactly with any convincing fervor.

"Good," Groose said, even though he knew it wasn't precisely _good_.

For another hour they walked in silence, keeping their eyes wide for signs or clues as to Karane's whereabouts. Beams of sunlight were beginning to seep into the forest, but dimmed by the passing, grey clouds overhead. Groose hoped they didn't promise rain.

"Groose, look at this," Fledge said suddenly, so quietly Groose almost didn't hear him. Groose approached Fledge, who was crouched down in the shrubbery, pointing to something almost unidentifiable. Initially, it looked like a piece of the shrubbery, but as Fledge picked it up, Groose could see it was anything but that.

"Karane's hat…"

"Yeah," Fledge whispered, as if speaking loudly would cause an avalanche of bad omens to cascade upon them, "Do you think this is enough to pull the flare for?"

"No, but it means she's in the forest for sure, which is a good start."

Fledge stood up, and the two were about to continue searching when a loud voice broke the hushed silence of the forest.

"Groose! Fledge! I found you!"

Groose turned on his heel in the direction of the voice so quickly he nearly stumbled to the ground. Fledge, on the other hand, _did_ fall down.

"Pipit?" Groose squinted at the figure bounding down the hillside before them, "Aren't you supposed to be with Link and Zelda?"

Pipit dashed towards them, breathing heavily, and leaned against a tree to catch his breath, "I got separated from them. I wanted to climb that hill over there so I could get a good view of the forest, but…" He took a deep breath, "I couldn't find them after that. They didn't shoot up their flare, so I don't think they're in danger."

Fledge had climbed to his feet and was brushing the dirt off of his clothes, "Why did you venture away from them? You know Gaepora told us not to."

"I told them to stay where they were, and by the time I got to the top of the hill, I was so disoriented and every direction looked the same that I didn't even know where I came from."

Groose face-palmed, "Well, at least you're not lost." He stopped to think for a moment, "I wonder how Zelda is?"

Pipit groaned, "She's _fine_ , Groose. Having fun, even. She doesn't need you to worry about her. Zelda can hold her own, and you know that."

"She _is_ a goddess, after all," Fledge added.

Groose shook his head, "Whatever. Where should we go now?"

"I was thinking we could go back up the hill," Pipit said, "With all three of us, we could get some spatial sense and find out what area we've covered, and where else we can look."

"Good idea," Fledge agreed, though Groose found it to be an awful suggestion, considering they'd probably just forget where they were going again. However, he couldn't think of a better plan, and so he followed in suit as they began striding towards the hill.

Walking at such an angle made the muscles in his legs burn and cold sweat form on his neck. He looked over at Fledge and Pipit, finding that they were in a similar condition. The hill jutted out of the canopy of the forest, and it was after passing most of the treeline that they felt the fluid breeze and gentle warmth of the sun. The naked hill was covered by a meager layer of grass and dirt, but was one of the highest in the area. Fledge stood in the direction from which they came as Groose and Pipit scoped out the region. For miles on end it seemed to be nothing but an endless blanket of trees carpeting the landscape in all directions. To the west, however, the village was visible, minute in comparison to the land surrounding. Groose was amazed at how far they actually had traveled.

Squinting in the opposite direction, he saw a break in the trees in the distance, giving way to a region of brown dust and dirt, streams of water, and even further, Lake Floria.

"That's the way we need to go," Groose stated, "If anything, we might find Link and Zelda there- they're familiar with the forest."

"I thought you were familiar with the forest," Pipit said in a way that made Groose's skin crawl.

"I am. I spent a lot of time down here- even more than Link, probably."

" _Really_?" Fledge beamed, "That's so cool! Did you meet any Kikwi? Did you study the plants that grow down here in the spring? What about the birds?" It suddenly struck Groose that Fledge was far less of a nobody he had once thought. He had hobbies, interests in science, that Groose had never bothered to learn.

"Shut _up_ ," Groose pressed, "It wasn't like that- I was helping out Link, Zelda, and…" he thought of Impa and felt a foreign pang in his chest.

"And…?"

"Just Link and Zelda. Come on. We don't have all day."

They shuffled down the hill tenaciously before heading in the direction of the lake, and while Fledge and Pipit discussed the aspects of living on the Surface with such zeal that it almost gave Groose a headache, he avoided the conversation and stayed a good ten paces behind both of them.

By the time another hour had passed, Groose could tell that all three of them were growing weary. However, it was growing near ten o'clock, and they neither had time to stop, nor the means to. Unless they made it to the open regions of the forest, they would have made no headway besides finding Karane's hat.

"Guys," Groose said, exhausted, and leaned against a tree, "We need to make some kind of strategy, we can't just keep walking forward-"

He looked up, finding Pipit and Fledge to be frozen in place, like their entire bodies had turned suddenly to stone. Upon further inspection, Groose realized they were looking at something, but whatever it was, was obscured by a tree from Groose's angle. Taking cautious, quiet steps, he inched towards them, and once the previously concealed item was revealed, he stifled an unwarranted gasp.

The Kikwi chief was even larger than Link had described. He towered over them, casting a shadow as tall as several trees from base to top, and yet had not noticed the three of them. His huge mass made Groose feel like he was being sucked in like a planet into orbit, and despite knowing that this species was docile, he suddenly felt a terror far different than anything he had ever experienced.

After a moment of trying to collect his breath and sanity, he turned his head to Pipit and Fledge, about to tell them to calm down.

Pipit let out a great cry, ripped the dagger Groose had sold him from his belt, and launched himself at the Kikwi's abdomen, thrusting the blade into the soft fur.

The Kikwi gave a terrible moan and staggered as Pipit ripped his dagger out, and if Groose hadn't hurled himself at the fellow knight, he probably would've gone in for another stab. Groose and Pipit tumbled down several rocks, the former trying to keep the latter from squirming out of his grasp. The Kikwi chief reeled in several directions, lurching between trees before collapsing to the ground with a great _thud_ that rocked the earth so strongly that Groose felt himself fall straight onto a painfully sharp boulder and Pipit break free of his grasp. Given the cries the creature was making, Groose figured he probably- thankfully- wasn't dead, and Pipit seemed to be shaken enough that he wasn't going to go in for another attack.

Before any of them could figure out any possibility of a solution, the ground shook with bushes and grasses exploding and shedding their foliage to give way to countless oktoroks emerging from the ground, all with their snouts prepared to shoot dozens of rocks in their direction.

Eyes wide, and heart hammering in his chest, Groose ripped the flare off of his belt, yanked the string with all his might, sending a coil of red and black smoke spiralling into the air, breaking through the tree tops and into the sky, leaving the ground covered in a heavy mist of dust.

 _A/N: Thanks for reading this latest chapter! The next one will have more character interaction, I swear._


	5. There are no Gains

_There are no gains without pains._

 _-Benjamin Franklin_

* * *

"You _absolute idiot_!" Groose cried, his lungs filling with dust and powder. He coughed violently, his eyes watering. He reached out a hand and grabbed Pipit by the collar, yanking him nearly off the ground.

"I'm not the idiot here!" Pipit shouted, "I was just trying to protect us!"

"He's harmless! You _moron_ , he's the Kikwi Chief!"

"Oh yeah? Then how come you told me about all the dangers of the forest if they're harmless?"

"Because… because-" Groose didn't have an answer for that other than that it was a marketing technique, but he wasn't going to tell that to Pipit.

However, he had no time for any kind of response, because all at once, the Oktoroks fired, and nearly twenty rocks came spiralling at the three at once. The stones hurt more than he had anticipated- like fire, a burning sensation spread out from where the rocks struck, and he counted at least three on his back and four on his chest before the force of them drove him to the ground. Pipit and Fledge collapsed beside him, moaning as the last of the rocks rolled off of them and clinked onto the ground.

Where the stones had struck, a numbness began to tingle under his skin, like beads rolling around in his veins. Out of fear, he tried to move his arm, but to no avail- he was paralysed.

 _At least I pulled the flare_ , thought Groose, as panic began to bubble up in his gut. It became an effort to breathe, and it suddenly occurred to him that this could be it, the end of the road for the three of them. Was his life supposed to flash before his eyes? His head felt fuzzy, like a hot blanket was being wrapped around his skull and the world appeared warped. The trees turned into great brown and green giants, their branches swinging like arms and knots becoming eyes and noses. The Oktoroks were closing in, but there seemed to be double, no _triple_ the amount there were before. Their faces distorted wildly, becoming long and short, some wide, some narrow. Like a film had been placed over his eyes, the world became a jumble of colors and shapes, nothing distinct.

When Groose tried to speak to the figures, he found his jaw would not move, nor would any part of his body. He was trapped, completely immobile, and it was terrifying.

A swift movement of green, followed by a very familiar navy blue and gold entered his vision, dashing over the land that seemed to be moving like ocean waves beneath them. As color soon faded to grey, and grey to black, somehow, despite his paralysis, Groose felt something grip his hand tightly before he fell unconscious.

But then again, maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

* * *

It was the air that entered his lungs so sharply that woke him up. He was prepared to leap up and run, dash off into the depths of the forest for his life, but Groose found himself beneath the warmth of a blanket, the heat of a home, the crackle of fire playing in his ears.

Nonetheless, his body gave a harsh jerk as his eyes opened and his skin burned with feeling.

"You're awake!" Cried a voice. Groose blinked several times, the room growing clearer as he took in his surroundings until the ceiling was so crystal-clear in detail that he could make out the splinters on the rafters.

His view of the ceiling was suddenly replaced with Strich's face, and then Cawlin's.

"Wow, Groose!" Strich exclaimed, "You've been out like a log all afternoon! I guess the venom wore off, huh?"

"Venom?" Groose croaked, his throat dry and scratchy. He coughed, and Strich handed him a glass of water, which he downed quickly.

"Yeah," Cawlin said, seeming far too eager to be talking about anything that had to do with venom, "When the Oktoroks fired the stones at you, the spines on them stuck on you and released a paralytic venom into your blood. Professor Owlan said it could've killed you!"

"Like a spider wasp," Strich added.

Groose spit out his water, "Well, I'm glad that didn't happen. I guess the ol' Groose was too tough for some of that, huh?"

"No, well… maybe," Strich said, softly, but Cawlin interrupted loudly, "Professor Owlan spent two whole _hours_ pulling all the spines out from you. That was the only way to stop the venom from spreading." Cawlin seemed way too excited for Groose's liking. The sun blaring through the window was making his head throb, and Cawlin was being all too loud- where _was_ he anyway? It certainly wasn't his house, it was too decorated for that.

Groose suddenly became aware of the throbbing, stinging pain in his chest and back, a feeling that burned like a million needles and a soreness that felt like he had ran for a week straight. He groaned in agony, "At least I was out for most of it."

Cawlin scoffed, "A good thing, too, because pulling out those spines would've hurt like a mo-"

"Did you say he pulled them out?"

"Yeah, I've said that twice."

Groose ripped the blanket off to reveal his bare chest, dotted with countless cherry red, swollen spots the size of needle pricks, each presenting a hole in the center where the barbs had once stuck. He touched one and hissed in pain.

Groose stared at the marks that were sprinkled sporadically across his abdomen like stars scattered in the sky, only redder and a lot uglier. He moaned, "Oh, I'm hideous!"

"Think on the bright side, Groose," Strich said pathetically, "When they heal, you can play connect the dots on yourself!"

Groose shot a glare at Strich that could melt steel. Cawlin continued, "They're, uh, all over over your back, too."

"Great," Groose spat, "Now I'll be as freckled as Pipit."

Saying his fellow knight's name, Groose suddenly remembered that it wasn't only he who had been afflicted with the spines. He sat up slowly in his bed, wincing as his wounds stung in protest, propping his head on the pillows. To his right, another bed hid Pipit beneath mounds of blankets, bandages visible over his shoulders. Groose sighed in relief- he might still be furious with Pipit, but he certainly didn't want him dead.

Seeing where Groose was looking, Strich elaborated, "Professor Owlan just finished up with pulling out Pipit's needles a little bit before you woke up." He gestured to Groose's left, where, a few feet over, stood another bed. Professor Owlan was hunched over the body in the bed, a tray full of long, brown needles beside him. He heard Owlan grunt as he yanked on the body and placed another needle on the tray.

"Fledge had the most," Cawlin noted solemnly, "He's still paralysed, but Owlan's sure he'll be okay." Professor Owlan was apparently so engrossed in his work that he hadn't noticed that Groose had woken up- he worked diligently, and they watched him remove several more needles before speaking again.

A pang of guilt struck him in the chest, like he should've defended them or at least gotten them out of the situation. _Link would've known what to do_ , Groose thought spitefully. He knew, indirectly, it was his own fault for working Pipit up to and selling him the dagger, but it _was_ Pipit's decision after all, and that was something Groose had no power over.

Though, looking at the pile of needles stacking up beside Fledge's paralysed body as Owlan removed them, he couldn't help but wish there was something he could do to protect him- a hero's instinct, he was sure.

"Where are we, anyway?" Groose asked, taking in his surroundings. The floor was lain with polished wood, far more clean than his own- it shone brightly beneath the sun that came in through the window at an angle. Familiar paintings were hung on the smooth, white walls, with lines of gold paint running along the crease between the floor and wall. The circular room was centered by an old, rectangular rug etched with designs of triangles and lines- he knew that rug…

Before anyone could answer, Groose asked, "Are we in Skyloft? At the Knight Academy?"

Under any other circumstance, the two would've probably howled with side-splitting laughter, but the dense silence in the room seemed to stifle any attempts at humor.

Cawlin shook his head and whispered, "No- lucky _you_ , you're in Zelda's house."

The familiarity sunk in instantly- yes, _of course_. He had helped _build_ this house, though he never saw inside the finished product, aside from the rug that was brought down from the Skyloft. The ornate- in terms of their meager settlement- home was modeled after the Knight Academy, giving him a gut wrenching sense of home.

But all of those details were irrelevant, because Groose was in Zelda's home, where she lived, where she ate her dinner, where she slept, where she changed into each one of her _adorable_ dresses…

He felt his face heat up shamelessly, and Cawlin rolled his eyes so far back Groose could only see the whites. "You're _hopeless_ , Groose. It's lucky she and Link found you guys, or else, who _knows_ what might have happened. They had to get Gondo and Jakamar to help carry all of you back."

"And what about-"

The door swung open and he turned his attention to the sound. His heart thundered in his chest when he saw Zelda step in the room, followed- naturally- by Link.

"Ah, Link, Zelda," Owlan said, finally torn from his work. He dipped his hands into a basin of water, "I'm nearly finished with Fledge. It's likely he'll sleep through the night." He turned to face Groose, "And please excuse me, Groose. I seemed to have not noticed that you awoke. How are you feeling?"

Groose sat up a little straighter, put on his most casual grin, "I've never felt better."

Cawlin and Strich both glared at him, the liar he was.

"Good to hear," Owlan responded softly, "I'll leave you to your visitors, then. I must finish helping Fledge." He turned his back to Groose and returned to removing the needles, and Groose found he was all too unprepared for Link and Zelda to approach him. Visitors? Why would they visit him?

Link pulled up a chair beside the bed and offered it to Zelda. She sat down, seemingly exhausted, as Link stood beside her- with four people staring down at him in this powerless state, Groose felt much like a specimen being oggled over by scientists.

Zelda's hair was still tied back, but strands had fallen loose around her face and her cheeks were rosy from the bite of the chilly air. She and Link had been out doing important things, he had no doubt.

"I'm glad to see you're okay, Groose," Zelda said, her voice as sweet as ever- Groose suddenly felt guilty for trying to spite her. "We have a lot to discuss, though. It seems some… problems have arisen." She bit her lip and Groose raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

Link spoke up, taking over for Zelda, "You see, when Pipit attacked the Kikwi Chief, the Oktoroks jumped out from their hiding places to defend him."

"I thought the Oktoroks were evil and had left the forest after you defeated Demise," Groose interjected.

"Not exactly," Link explained. Finding himself exhausted, just as Zelda was, Link grabbed a chair from beside Pipit's bed and seated himself next to Zelda. "I thought so, too, but apparently they defend whoever hires them. Before, it seems Ghirahim had hired them, and that's why they attacked intruders. However, now they're defending the Kikwis.

"That's why they're still in the forest and why they attacked you. It's good you shot off the flare, otherwise you might not be here right now." Link grimaced, "But that's not the worst part. After we found you and stopped them from killing you, then brought you back here, Zelda and I went back into the forest to apologize and see if the Chief was okay, which he is, thankfully."

"I don't see how that's the bad part."

"But, we're…" Link swallowed harshly and Zelda shot him an anxious glance, "...banned indefinitely from the forest."

Groose's jaw dropped and he heard Strich let out a little gasp. "You mean, I can't go get gourds or anything?"

Link shot him a look of sympathy, "No, you can't."

"And… what about Karane? What did the Kikwis say?" Cawlin asked cautiously, his eyes darting over to Pipit's bed.

Zelda shook her head, "They haven't seen any humans other than us."

Cawlin's face fell, "Well, I, uh.. had better get going, then." Head hung dejectedly, he began shuffling towards the door, "I've got things to do, you know…" He looked up at Groose, "By the way, we sold out all the bread today, Groose. The tools you bought off of Gondo and the rupees you earned are in your house." The door swung shut behind him.

"I'd better go see if he's alright," Strich added, and with that, he, too, had left.

"Well," Groose declared, ripping off his blanket. He was taking a gamble that he had pants on, which, thankfully, he did, and leapt out of the bed, searching the area for his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Zelda stood up, "You're injured- you should rest."

While Groose was surprised that Zelda was showing any care towards his well-being after their argument last night, he refused to comply, "No, I've got things to do, you see? If I can't get goods from the forest, I'll have to work harder than ever." Despite his limbs screaming in protest, he was up and about, feigning perfect health. "Link, where's my shirt?"

Link reached into the nightstand and pulled out Groose's blue shirt and tossed it at him.

"Thanks," Roughly, he began pulling it over his head, mindful of his wounds.

" _Link_ ," Zelda pressed, outraged, "You can't possibly think he's well enough to leave already."

Link shrugged, "I mean, I went through a lot even when I should've rested. If he feels fine, then he can go do what he pleases."

Groose flashed a gracious smile at Link and began striding towards the door, "See you two later."

"Wait!" Zelda called when Groose was already halfway down the hallway. In all honesty, he would've liked to continue resting, given the painful way his shirt was scraping against his skin, and his work could wait, but this was _exactly_ where he wanted Zelda. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, thoroughly pleased at the sound of her footsteps over the creaking floorboards, not only because he'd have an excuse to talk to her, but also because he didn't know his way out.

She appeared before him, her face tensed up in distress. Groose took a long look at her, and, as usual, found that she had torn his breath clear out of his lungs. She was gorgeous, of course, and he'd probably long for her until the day she and Link eventually wed- and even after that, secretly. But when she spoke with such defiance, courage and wit, a personality as unique as being a goddess was, Groose couldn't help but hang onto every last word that she said.

"Groose," She finally said, "If you're going to go find things to sell, then I'd like to apologize for doubting you before."

The words didn't register, and he stared at her blankly for the longest few seconds of his life. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Zelda repeated firmly, "You seem to have a plan set in place to help our village through the winter, so I won't stand in your way when you sell things."

Groose swallowed harshly, his throat going dry as she looked straight into his eyes with such fervor that his knees nearly buckled. He had to clear his throat twice before he could talk, "It's okay, Zelda. I know you're just looking out for the best."

She grinned and the whole room lit up.

"Now, uh, where's the exit?"

* * *

Though the day was coming to a close, Groose spent the afternoon running from house to house, asking villagers about the skills used in their previous professions. He convinced them they weren't _completely_ powerless without their tools and supplies, that from some scraps Gondo had created enviable tools and they could help, too, if they would just give it their best shot. Apparently, the villagers believed his words, because the money that he had earned the previous day and which Cawlin and Strich had earned that morning were nearly depleted by the time he returned home and dumped his goods on the table.

From Piper, he had purchased pumpkins, flour, and sugar; Wryna sold him an old cloak and hat; Pumm and Kina kindly sold their soup spices that had once made the Lumpy Pumpkin the envy of their small world; Marella had dumped a trunkful of cleaning supplies in his arms priced with a number so low Groose was sure he had misread it; Owlan and Horwell stacked up multiple textbooks that had once bored Groose to death in school; and Jakamar presented him with two hammers and a pair of socks.

However, Bertie and Luv had informed him that there was nothing _they_ could do- all the ingredients required were gone, and no potions could be born from their work. But it wasn't necessarily the herbs they were missing.

The menagerie of goods on his dining room table was a sight to see as he began polishing the tools, rebinding the books, chopping up the pumpkins and putting them into a pot, and shaking the dust out of the clothes. However, something struck his memory, and he _knew_ how he could get potions from Bertie and Luv, but he would need goods from someone very close by...

* * *

"You want to buy my BUGS?!"

Groose never went into Strich's house very often, mostly because he was mortified that he'd leave with a spider crawling around in his hair, but this was important business, a matter of life or death.

"Well, not exactly _me_ , but Bertie and Luv can't make potions without them," Groose clarified, "They have enough herbs, but they told me they need a few insects in order to do anything with them, and I can't very well go into the forest to get them, and you _know_ Cawlin won't touch those things."

Strich grabbed a beetle from off of his table and held it close to his heart, "You want to make them into _drinks_?! Groose, that's- that's- _murder_!" He suddenly grew paler than normal, looking very faint.

"Yeah, well it'd be murder to let the whole village _starve_!" Groose countered quickly.

"Oh, _please_ ," Strich spat, louder than he ever normally was, "Like you'd even _care_ if we all died. This is all just a great big scheme to pad your wallet and get Zelda to like you, and we _all_ know it." He snatched up another bug, his hands shaking.

"That's a _lie_ ," Groose seethed, actually offended for once, "I'm going to help the village, and I'm not doing it for myself." The more he told himself that and the more he saw Zelda, the less he believed his own lie. He hadn't ever seen Strich get this furious before. Maybe mentioning the bugs was a bad idea.

" _Really_?" Strich narrowed his eyes, but appeared to grow calmer as he looked at the little bugs crawling around his palm. In the last minute, he had collected nearly seven just from the immediate area around him and was clutching them close to his chest. "What I mean is that you can run your store, and I'll help, but if this is all to get Zelda to ditch Link and run off into the sunset with you, then stop now. It'll only dig us all further into a hole, and if you're not _really_ thinking this out, then we might not be able to climb out again." He exhaled, not daring to look up from his palm. Groose remained diligently silent as Strich continued, "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Groose. But you still can't have my bugs."

Groose left after that, and well into the night, he hacked away at pumpkins and measured out spices. He washed the socks, hat, and cloak in his bucket of water that had grown a veneer of ice in his absence, and hung them on his rafters to dry as the pumpkins boiled on the stove and the wood hammers were rounded off and the daggers sharpened. He organized the goods by type on the table, setting them up at angles to display their best sides and small price tags set beside them.

Suppressing yawns and droopy eyelids, he turned the simmering pumpkins not into soup, but into something that smelled _marvelous_ , that made him think of bitter air and warmth, of leaves and sun. Piper's pumpkins, flour, and sugar had stretched a long way, and as the timid morning light gave the clouds a pale, grey hue, he had finished pouring the thick, orange mixture into a circular, flaky crust for the seventh time. He didn't need to try it to know it would taste better than anything they had ever made in Skyloft.

Dragging himself outside with a nearly empty bucket of red paint, a huge slab of wood, and a brush, he clambered onto the roof. With large, tired strokes, he swept the red paint into lines and curves, into words. By the time he had finished, the eastern horizon glowed a soft purple, and he managed to only fall on his back when he tried to get back on to the ground.

He staggered back to view his handiwork from a distance, and very nearly toppled into another body that he had not even noticed.

"Groose," It was Zelda, and maybe it was because he was so exhausted, but she almost looked like she was concerned, "Have you been up all night?"

Groose realized he must have looked like a wreck as much as he felt like one, and so he nodded carefully. He blinked a few times, stood a little straighter, trying his best to look as awake as possible.

She looked ready to reprimand him, but instead, she laughed, "I thought so. My window was open last night and I heard a lot of noises this morning. When I looked outside and saw you on your roof, I just had to come and see what you were doing."

"Well, this is it, Zelda," Groose said, finding his voice. The notion that this was the first time he'd ever talked to her alone when she wasn't furious with him passed through his head, and it made him so giddy that fatigue was no longer a problem. "This is the permanent establishment of my sales." He gestured grandly to his home, which was no longer just a home, but a business, a means of support, a reason for Zelda to like him.

Zelda stood back, looking at the large, red letters painted on the top of his roof.

"Groose's... Yooses?" Zelda sounded out, staring at the sign incredulously. She looked from the sign to Groose, then to the sign, as if the sign could give a better explanation than he could.

"Yep," Groose said, standing proudly with his hands on his hips, and repeated aloud, "Groose's Yooses."

Zelda turned to him, "You know that's not how you spell the word 'uses', don't you?" She squinted at the sign, mouthing the words again until they fit a rhythm.

"Of course I do," Groose laughed to himself, "I know how to spell. It's marketing, Zelda. You've got to make the sign pleasant to the viewer's eyes. If I wrote 'uses' like it's normally spelled, it wouldn't look half as good as it does with my name." He formed a square with his fingers and looked at the sign through them. "Perfect."

Zelda nodded slowly, lifting her hands up to create a square as well.

"And I couldn't change my name to be G-R-U-S-E just to make it rhyme with 'use'," Groose reasoned, dropping his hands and turning to face Zelda.

She grinned, "I like it."

He felt his heart jump out of his chest and his face burn like fire at her approval, so he left her side and wearily staggered to his front step to hang a smaller wooden block of words on his door.

They read, _Open for Business_.

 _A/N: Thank you for reading this installment! The lovely ctj has pointed out that my cover is less than glorious (because I cannot draw nor design) and has offered to make one for me with her wonderful art skills! If you haven't read her stories yet, you should, because her writing is absolutely beautiful. Leave a review if you can- feedback is always welcome and it really helps. :)_


	6. Women and Wine

_Women and wine, game and deceit make the wealth small and the wants great._

 _-Benjamin Franklin_

* * *

That day, each villager had visited the shop at least twice.

By noon, the pumpkin pie was completely decimated, all seven desserts sliced up into almost fifteen pieces each were served up and sold to the eager villagers. The scent of the food was overwhelming, tantalizing, and Groose snuck three pieces for himself, Cawlin, and Strich for later on while the pies alone raked in over eight hundred rupees that stuffed two and a half crates.

Children gobbled up the pie as soon as Groose slid the slice into their eager hands, their parents eyeing the tools and clothing, nodding in approval. The socks, cloak, and hat were gone, sold to Piper for Gully, Jakamar sauntered out, his arms full of tools that Gondo had improved, and even Peatrice found something she liked: the textbooks of Skyloft's history.

Link stopped in to buy a slice of pie, more so out of politeness, because his real business was to tell Groose that Pipit and Fledge had awoken in the middle of the night, and would be recovered fully by that afternoon. Groose's own wounds were beginning to have less of a sting the more he worked and less he thought of them.

It was odd to have so many people in his house. He, Cawlin, and Strich were, for all intents and purposes, trapped behind the table until they sold everything, considering how packed it was at all hours. While there wasn't a huge variety of items to be sold, Groose figured people just enjoyed the concept of being somewhere exciting and new, creating a perpetual swarm of people shuffling through the shop that Strich said reminded him of an ant colony.

Cawlin promptly told him to never use insect analogies again.

Throughout the day, Groose kept an eye out for Zelda, but not once did he see her, even when Link visited. His tired eyes were strained from looking for a sudden flash of gold hair or the turn of a pink dress, but to no avail.

Bertie stood before him now, but the only thing in his arms was Dova, who was remarkably asleep for once. When Groose raised an eyebrow at them, Bertie cleared his throat, "Groose, I was wondering… the weather's been getting steadily colder and Dova here is still very young. Do you have, by chance, a coat at all?"

One look at Dova, her nose and cheeks pink from the sunless day, and Groose felt a pang that he knew only parents must feel when they look at their child. He looked away, "We did, but Piper bought it for Gully. I'm really sorry- but we might have something tomorrow, or the day after. It all depends on what I buy from the other villagers."

Bertie's face fell and he let out a low sigh, "That's okay, I suppose." He rocked his child in his arms and began heading towards the door.

"Wait!" Came a shout, a hand jutting out of the crowd of people. Out of the mass emerged Peater, huffing as he tried to catch Bertie. Bertie didn't object as Peater yanked on his arm and dragged him to the front of the line, inducing a few disgruntled objections from the rest of the people waiting. Nonetheless, Groose was interested in what Peater was doing, and so he allowed him to continue.

"Groose," Peater said, still holding roughly onto Bertie as he attempted to squirm his way out of the iron grip. With his other hand, he ran his fingers through his blonde hair, "I don't know if you knew this, but I can sew something marvelous. Gloves? You got it. Shirts? My specialty. Cloaks?" He yanked at Bertie's shirt sleeve, "You damn know it. All I'd need is a bit of yarn or cloth, some string and a needle." He pointed to his own clothing, which fit him rather poorly, "I made these on my own."

Groose acted uninterested, but inside, he was already calculating what kind of wage he could pay Peater, "And how fast could you make a cloak, for example?"

"Psh. _Easy_. Wouldn't take me more than three hours if you wanted a nice design on the back."

Groose nodded slowly, trying with difficulty to stifle a wild grin, "We'll see. The shop closes at six tonight. Come over at seven for an interview."

Peater smirked, "You got it, Groose. You see- even if I'm an ex-knight, I can still help out."

Bertie cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Um… can I leave now? Dova is starting to cry." The bundle in his arms was squirming just as her father was, a gurgle of cries forming in her throat.

Peater, not wanting to fill the shop of his possible employment with the cries of a baby, ushered him out, then waved a goodbye to Groose, shouting, "See you later!"

Cawlin smirked, "Looks like you've got an employee, Groose." He handed Keet his change and welcomed the next customer.

Groose didn't bother to respond because suddenly, the door swung back open, and Zelda stepped into the room, and Cawlin's voice became nothing more than a dull murmur in the background. She seemed to outshine everyone in the room with her hair gleaming like gold and a soft purple dress around her figure that Groose hadn't seen before. He must have been wearing the dopiest expression, his jaw slackened and his balance staggering as he swooned, because Zelda shot him a grin more vibrant than the sun and laughed. Strich had to reach out an arm to prevent Groose from falling over.

 _Please buy something, please buy something_ , Groose prayed, if only for the reason that she'd be close to him.

He lazily accepted rupees and handed out change, hardly paying attention to his work as he watched Zelda move about the shop from the corner of his eye. Most of the things left were tools, but what caught her attention was something Groose couldn't see from a distance. His heart thundering in his chest, he watched as she walked not up to Cawlin's, not to Strich's, but to Groose's line.

It suddenly became in Groose's priority to send all of the customers on their way as quickly as possible.

When it was finally Zelda's turn in line, Groose thought he might fall over. Her hair was braided elegantly down her back, two curls on either side of her head let loose to frame her face, and upon closer inspection, her lilac dress was lined with gold thread on the seams. It occurred to him that Peater's first task should be to make dresses.

With a loud _thud,_ Zelda dropped an enormous textbook, one that Owlan and Horwell had sold to Groose, onto the table. Groose stared at it for a long moment before he said anything.

"You want to buy a copy of _The Evolution of the Loftwing_?" Groose asked nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yes," Zelda ran her hand along the binding of the book, "How much does it cost? I couldn't find a price tag."

Groose couldn't remember the price, and to be honest, he would've given it to her for free, but that wasn't what he was thinking about, "This is a textbook, Zelda. How can you read this? There aren't any pictures!" He flipped open to a random page, lines of text with no seeming end filling the paper.

"Some people use their imagination," Zelda said, a teasing- but not rude- bite to her voice, "Anyway, how much does it cost?" She pulled her wallet off of her belt.

"For you," Groose swooned, "It's free."

Zelda laughed and leaned her elbows on the counter, "Oh, but _Groose_. Wouldn't that just contradict your effort to stimulate the economy?"

Groose swallowed harshly, blinked a few times, feeling his face heat up like fire, "Yeah… I suppose it would."

"Now, how much does it _really_ cost?"

While Groose was trying to come up with a price that would be neither too steep nor too cheap for her to not accept, Cawlin began poking Groose with what seemed to be urgent matters.

" _What_?" Groose snapped at Cawlin, but then retracted quickly to make sure he wasn't too gruff in front of Zelda, "What is it, Cawlin?"

"Where's my dagger, by the way? I lent it to you yesterday, didn't I?"

"Uhh…"

"Yeah, you did," Cawlin poked him, "Where is it?"

As if on some kind of cue that hated Groose and all he wanted in life, Pipit burst in through the door, steam practically rolling off of his head with anger.

"GROOSE!"

The entire store went silent as Groose's eyes went wide, but he maintained his stance, refusing to back down. He knew exactly what was coming, but no counter-measures were coming to mind. Pipit pushed his way through the crowd and- unfortunately- past Zelda, to where the only thing separating Groose and Pipit was the table.

"Hey, Pipit," Was the only thing Groose could think of to say, "Do you want to buy anything today?"

Clearly outraged, Pipit slammed his fists on the table and leaned so close to Groose that he could count the freckles on his nose. Pipit took a deep breath, " _You_ \- I don't want to buy a damn thing, okay, Groose?! And do you know _why_?"

Groose, of course, knew _exactly_ why, and he didn't blame him, but in spite of himself, he shrugged.

"I'll _tell_ you why, Groose, and I'll tell everyone in this _room_ , too."

Zelda shot Groose a concerned look, but he was no longer in any position to object to Pipit without looking like what he was- a con artist.

"Because the last thing _I_ bought from you very nearly got us _killed_ and permanently made it _impossible_ to find Karane," Pipit seethed, pushing every word like it took effort to speak.

Everyone in town knew about the incident with the Kikwi elder by now, but the details were vague and morphed, telling a different story from each person if asked. The only real specifics that everyone knew was that it involved a freak accident with the Kikwi elder and Pipit, but no one was to blame. However, the track of this conversation suggested otherwise, that soon fault would be resting on Groose's shoulders. Yet, Groose remained aloof.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Pipit pointed an accusatory finger at Groose, "Oh, yes you do. Don't play dumb with me, Groose. I know we've always had conflicting ideals, but here's where _I_ draw the line. Where people get hurt. Where you get me worked up about the dangers of the forest just so you can sell me a damn dagger."

"YOU SOLD MY DAGGER TO PIPIT!?" Cawlin screeched, but Groose ignored him.

"Do you _know_ how scary it is down here for the rest of us? Sure, you might've spent some time down here with an old lady and claim to be an expert now, but that _doesn't_ mean you can take advantage of the fact that the rest of us are plain _terrified_ that we won't even make it through the winter." Pipit's face was red with fury, and it was taking all of Groose's will-power not to punch his face into another color.

Hands shaking, Groose sneered, "I didn't _make_ you stab the Kikwi chief. That's _your_ fault." Groose knew he had already lost the argument, and that soon, people would awkwardly leave the shop, never to return, even if it meant their deaths.

"That may be true, but no one ever _told you_ to be a complete _ass_ \- you did that yourself." And with that, with the room so silent they could hear Pipit and Groose's angry breaths, Pipit sauntered towards the door, but stopped just before the exit, "Oh, and by the way. Fledge says he hopes you're doing alright. He told me he'll stop by when he can _walk again_."

Zelda gave Groose such a look of disgust that he wanted to crawl into a hole and never emerge. "I'll take you up on that offer for the free book," Teeth clenched, Zelda snatched the book from the table and stormed through the door. Wordlessly, the entire hoard of people began filing out after her, but when Groose shouted, "Wait!", they retracted back inside. It seemed the drama was too much- it surprised Groose how easily people could get immersed in a spectacle.

Ignoring the death-like glares from a crowd that probably was no more moral than he, Groose continued, "Yeah, it's true that I sold Pipit the dagger- and yeah, it may have been Cawlin's dagger that I will _fully_ reimburse him for…" He allowed himself a glance at Cawlin, whose eyebrows were so angled with anger they were practically diagonal. "...But that's not the point. You see, this was _all_ just a big misunderstanding. I had no intentions on getting us banned from the forest. I want to find Karane just as much as Pipit does." Groose laughed sheepishly, hoping his charade would convince the customers to stay inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he checked to see if Pipit and Zelda had returned, but neither had.

"Come on, Groose," Parrow grunted, "Pipit told us what happened. It doesn't matter if you had good intentions- you used fear tactics to sell something that wasn't yours to sell."

Groose knew he had to think fast. He was publicly losing an argument, spiralling swiftly to his ruin- he needed to word his way out of this one and quick. He addressed the crowd, "I might have worked him up a bit, but that was only because I was worried about him. The forest _is_ a dangerous place- I know from personal experience." A half-lie. The forest was no longer dangerous, nor did he care about Pipit.

Peatrice piped up, "Personal experience? What did you do here on the Surface before we came down?"

Memories of cool spring breezes and the sound of birds singing filled his head, a temporary paradise before now, where they were left alone to struggle. All too humbly, he told them, "I invented my own machine, Peatrice, and Link and I teamed up to beat a monster the size of the Goddess Statue."

Peatrice let out a gasp, "That _big_? What did it look like?"

Groose smiled to himself. He might not be getting himself out of badly played cards, but he sure as hell could change the subject.

"Oh, it had scales as dark as night _all_ over its gigantic body, with a mouth filled with rows and rows of teeth that could swallow up all of this village in one gulp." Groose extended his arms above his head as representation, "And it would stomp up this spiral gorge towards the temple, and you know what it did sometimes?"

The crowd's expression was aghast, begging for the answer.

"It would _slither_."

The whole room gasped.

"Like a centipede," Strich added, and Cawlin elbowed him.

Groose picked at his fingernails nonchalantly, "It could also fly. No wings or anything- not like a Loftwing. It'd just be standing there, and before you know it, it'd rise up with a halo over its head, like an angel."

"Mm mm," Pumm shook his head, "No way, sorry, Groose. I don't believe a word of it. If you could convince Pipit the forest is scary, you might be a good storyteller, but there is _no_ fooling me. Nothing could be _that_ big and fly."

"Ask Link," Groose said dauntingly.

Finally, all eyes were off of Groose and averted to someone else. They awaited Pumm's response eagerly, until he laughed heartily, his whole body moving with his apparent joy, "I just might, son."

The laughter seemed to have broken the air, because the others laughed along with him. Whatever they found so funny, Groose didn't know, but relief washed over him instantly because the customers began mulling about once more, evidently entirely finished with the Pipit incident. Groose was astounded. With the ability to change the mood of the whole conversation, Groose could really do a lot, though as of now, he wouldn't push his luck. The only one who seemed immune to Groose's complete balderdash was Zelda. Changing that was probably his new goal.

Make that Cawlin, too. Cawlin was having absolutely none of the silver platter of bull shit Groose was offering.

The next few hours passed exceptionally smoothly, other than Cawlin's refusal to make eye contact nor speak with Groose. Customers brought the remaining goods to the table, dumping more and more rupees into the crate, occasionally asking more questions about The Imprisoned, which was now fortunately sealed in time itself.

When six o'clock finally came around and the last of the customers stepped out of the door, Groose shut the door and collapsed with exhaustion on the chair. Cawlin and Strich, however, held their ground, staring him down. Groose stared back, "What?"

"Oh, you _know_ what," Cawlin fumed. On short legs, he stormed over the the overflowing crate of rupees, "What's my salary? Doesn't matter, I guess." He dug around in the crate and filled his arms with as many rupees as he could and beckoned for Strich to accompany him, "Come on, Strich. You worked all day. Take what you earned."

Strich seemed in limbo, hesitating between standing by Groose and joining Cawlin. In the end, he was unable to decide, and sat himself in the corner.

"What are you _doing,_ Cawlin?" Groose snapped, getting up and roughly pulling Cawlin away from the crate, "I'm going to pay you, stupid! Why are you getting so bent out of shape about this? I only sold it to Pipit so he'd be a permanent customer."

"And look how _that_ turned out."

"Yeah, things go wrong, okay?"

"You tricked me."

"Oh, come on, Cawlin," Groose raised his arms in distress, "We always trick each other. It's no big deal."

Strich interjected quietly, "Actually, Groose, it is. You took his knife and sold it without his permission. That's no prank."

Groose furrowed his brow and pointed an accusatory finger at Cawlin, causing the latter to recoil slightly, "Quit pretending like you're some kind of angel. It's not like you're going around doing good deeds- which _I_ am, by the way- so you can just drop it, and I would, If I were you."

The threat was empty, of course, but Groose could feel the fury of being accused spreading through him like a wildfire. A very deep and painful tightness filled his chest and he felt suddenly like an animal surrounded, wildly trying to defend itself.

"We only ever messed with Fledge and Link because you told us to," Strich mumbled, seeming to shrink in on himself as he spoke.

"Sure," Groose spat, "I'm _sure_ we were all jackasses to them _just_ because I told you to. I know you have a backbone, Cawlin." He glanced at Strich, who was quivering in the corner, "Strich might not, but you do, and if you're as moral as you think you are, you sure as hell could've told me to knock it off."

"It's not that simple," Cawlin fumed, and before he could continue, there was an urgent pounding at the door. For a moment, Groose thought Peater had arrived for his interview, but it was not yet seven. Shooting a piercing glare at Cawlin and Strich, Groose strode over to the door and, upon seeing their visitor, almost fell over.

Zelda stood on his porch, her usually soft, blue eyes resembling ice, scowling so fiercely at Groose that his knees buckled.

"I'm here to deliver a message to Cawlin," She said, her jaw clenched and fists balled up and shaking at her side. She didn't take her eyes off of Groose, "My father says he'll be at his house at eight tonight to investigate the robbery."

From behind Groose, Cawlin nodded meekly.

She extended her arm and opened her fist, dropping Cawlin's sheathed dagger on the ground before him. "Pipit wanted Cawlin to have this back," She explained, her eyebrows raised in almost an aloof manner, though if she was attempting to hide her rage, she was doing a rather poor job.

"Thank you," Groose said regally, mocking her. It didn't matter how beautiful he found her, or even how sick he felt when he saw her with Link- evidently, she was giving him such a look of abhorrence that Groose couldn't help but feel it in return.

Zelda spun on her heel, but stopped in her tracks before she left. Without turning back around, she spoke, "Groose, just a fair warning… you won't be able to talk your way out of things forever. You might have a gift with speaking, but there will come a time where that won't work."

As soon as she left, Groose snatched up the dagger, whipped it at Cawlin, and kicked the table with such force that it was knocked on its side and several tools sent spiralling and tumbling on to the floor. Instantly, pain bloomed in his foot, a stinging, throbbing feeling in his toes that had collided with the wood and he lifted his leg up, hopping up and down, howling and hissing in pain.

"Gods _dammit_!" He cried, hopping towards a chair on his good leg. Cawlin and Strich stood idly by, Strich with his hands behind his back, and Cawlin with his arms folded at his chest, obviously suppressing the violent urge to laugh despite the situation at hand. Groose settled into his chair, feeling his toes begin to tingle with numbness. If he had broken his foot…

"Was that _really_ necessary?" Cawlin snorted, meandering towards Groose. Like a mother to her injured child, he shook his head knowingly and tsk-ed, "Come on, take off your boot, stupid."

Wincing at the pain, Groose slipped off his boot as Strich inched closer to observe. His sock joined his boot on the floor, revealing a blossom of purple and blue on his first two toes, like drops of paint into clear water. He looked at Cawlin, as if his friend had medical knowledge to spare; he gave a look of disgust at the already darkening bruise and wrinkled his nose, "Ooh, that's bad."

"The color reminds me of-"

"Strich, stop. No more insect analogies."

Groose grimaced at his toes. His boots must have been wearing thin, given how long it had been since he'd bought new ones. Either that, or he had kicked the table with a _lot_ more force than he'd intended.

"I'm pretty strong, huh?" Groose reckoned. He wiggled his toes, but all too soon found that to be an incredibly bad and agonizing idea- he yelped in pain despite himself.

"Yep," Cawlin confirmed, "Broken. One-hundred percent sure, Groose."

"Well, you did screw up big-time," Strich added, "Breaking your toes over a girl is pretty bad. Do you think she'd be flattered if you told her she was the reason you nearly destroyed some furniture and your foot?"

Groose folded his arms and endured as his face turned a deep shade of red. What kind of cards were dealt to him that he completely botched every attempt at being successful? In reality, he had always done things decently, especially regarding school work. It seemed, however, that the Surface took no prisoners, bore no safety nets, and certainly didn't favor him, or anyone. But especially not him.

"I didn't kick it because of Zelda," It wasn't exactly a lie, though. Granted, she had been the trigger, been the turning point. If not for the poignant look of detestation sculpted on her normally cheery face just for him, his toes probably wouldn't be this unnatural color.

It was the stream of events leading up to it- that his replanted friendship with Pipit had withered and died, that _really_ the only retribution he had received for his faults was from those whom he wanted it least: Cawlin, Strich, and Zelda.

Cawlin retrieved a towel from the kitchen, "Hold still, I'm going to wrap your foot with this."

As Cawlin worked away at keeping the haphazard gauze over his toes, Strich snorted, restrained a laugh.

Cawlin scoffed, "What's so funny?"

Strich covered his mouth as he giggled girlishly, "I was just thinking, Groose- Zelda's right. You're really good at swaying other people's emotions."

"How so?" Groose mused.

"Cawlin was about ready to kill you, and as soon as you broke your toes, his motherly instincts turned on and now he's wrapping your foot like nothing happened."

"Hey!" Cawlin shouted and shoved Groose's foot painfully to the side as he stood up, "I resent that! I don't have any 'motherly instincts'. If anyone," He huffed, sitting down to continue tending to Groose's foot, " _You_ have motherly instincts, Strich, what with all your little insect children."

"True," Strich pondered, "Though I'd consider myself more of a foster parent than anything. They all have to grow up and leave someday."

Together, they laughed, and it really was as if nothing had happened at all, just as Strich had explained. With his foot wrapped in somewhat of a sloppy, yet satisfactory fashion, Cawlin instructed him to not put his weight on it and walk as little as possible. Given Groose's goals for the store, that seemed highly unreasonable, but he agreed, at least for the time being.

It was then that there was a polite knock at the door and Strich got up to answer it. Behind the door stood Peater, dressed differently- but not better- than before. A bright red vest, tied together with black string in the front rested on his chest. His pants were a dull green, similar in color to Link's knight uniform, and all together, Peater resembled a flabby Christmas tree.

Stepping in royally, he nodded to Strich, then turned to Groose, his mouth open to speak, but he raised a finger and stopped in his tracks, his eyes falling on Groose's foot, propped up on a second chair.

"It's uh, a long story," Groose declared, waving his foot in a greeting towards Peater, "Anyway. You're ready for your interview?" Peater nodded, and Groose replaced his foot on the ground, using his good leg to kick the other chair towards Peater. "Take a seat."

Peater sat, and Groose straightened his back as Cawlin and Strich watched eagerly.

"Are you willing to accept whatever hours I employ you?" Groose asked stiffly, as if this interview was a pain itself.

"Yes, as long as they're reasonable."

"Your payment will be… how does eight rupees per hour sound?"

To Groose's astonishment, Peater shook his head, "No, sorry, that's not enough."

Annoyed, Groose glared at him, "Fine, make that ten, but don't expect another raise until we're firmly established." When Peater nodded in acceptance, Groose threw his final proposal, "Lastly, can you make dresses?"

Cawlin and Strich sighed in amusement.

"Yes, I can, as a matter of fact," Peater said, relaxing into his chair, "My daughter, Peatrice, only wears dresses that I make for her- and isn't she a pretty little thing?"

Groose couldn't tell if the question was rhetorical or a genuine inquiry, so he scratched his neck uncomfortably and mumbled nonsense.

"She talks about you a lot, you know," On Peater's face grew a knowing, mischievous smile. Raising his voice an octave, he mimicked his daughter, "Groose is giving away food to children, Groose killed a squirrel by himself, Groose is selling things, Groose went into the forest, Groose has his own store!" Peater chuckled to himself, looking at the wall blankly, as if he was watching Peatrice say them as he spoke.

At the implication, Groose found himself _very_ uncomfortable and tried to change the subject. "Good to hear. Now, um… you're hired."

"Really?"

"Yes, you are. Tonight, make as many articles of clothing as you possibly can, and show up with them at nine in the morning. The store opens at ten."

Peater seemed satisfied with this, because, thankfully, he got up, bid them farewell, and showed himself out. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Groose let out a relieved sigh.

"I'm glad that's over."

"Hey, Groose," Strich teased, "Maybe you could break your foot over someone else. Peatrice would be really pleased to hear that."

"Yeah, _sure_ ," Groose scoffed, leaning over to grab the chair and inch it towards him to prop his foot up once more, "And if I forgot to spend twenty hours a day with her, she'd mope and make a scene until I got down on my knees and apologized."

It was growing near eight, so Cawlin declared that he had to make an appearance at his own home where Gaepora would arrive and probe the crime scene for evidence. He left, and with him, Strich, leaving Groose to hobble over to his bedroom and lay himself down without further injuring his toes. The window was open, letting darkness and cold air spill into the room, the only source of light being the crescent of moon beaming down a stripe into his room. It was chilly enough that, if his toe wasn't throbbing painfully beneath the towel, he would've risen and closed the window, but he was as comfortable as he figured he'd get, so Groose remained in bed, listening to the dead silence outside.

Aside from the occasional bluster of wind that shifted the trees and dead leaves, there was nothing to hear outside, until…

"...And when was your house robbed?"

"The day before yesterday, sir, at night."

Suddenly, Groose was glad his window was open. It wasn't exactly eavesdropping if he knew what the conversation was about, was it? And it might even help him catch the culprit if he knew more details.

"Was there anything odd that you noticed during the day or before you went to bed? The specifics are vital, you know."

Cawlin took a moment to respond, "...There was something, now that I think of it. My window was already open. I went inside, and nothing was missing, so I shut my window and went to bed. When I woke up, my window was open again and it was then that I noticed I had been robbed."

Groose heard Gaepora sigh thoughtfully, "Odd, indeed. I may just consider mandating locks for windows, not just doors." It sounded like he was writing something down, "And what was missing?"

"Almost all of my food, my tools, a cloak, some firewood… oh! And this really cool blue necklace that's been in my family for a long time. I hated to see it go."

Groose hadn't ever seen the necklace, but he assumed that it must've meant a lot, given that Cawlin hadn't any family left- well, most of them were the last of their line, anyway.

"Then," Gaepora said, "Might I be allowed to take a look inside and search for some evidence you may have overlooked?"

"...No."

"No?"

In the darkness of his room, Groose furrowed his brow. That was peculiar. Cawlin might be stubborn, but he wasn't the kind of person to let whoever robbed him off easily.

"Yeah, I don't want you going in my house," Cawlin muttered, so quietly Groose had to strain to hear him.

"Well, I apologize, but if I can't enter your house, I can no longer assist you in finding the culprit," Gaepora huffed, his voice touched with offense, "Surely there's nothing terrible you're hiding."

There was a long silence, and Groose thought they had left already, until Cawlin continued.

"It's not terrible, it's…" The rest was uttered so quietly that Groose could not make out a single word aside from undertoned mumbling.

He heard Gaepora answer to whatever Cawlin had said, "I see. I'll tell not a soul. If you'll show me in, then…"

The sound of the door opening, then closing shut was heard, and while Groose tried to wrack his brain for whatever Cawlin might be hiding in his house, the fatigue of not having slept since yesterday kicked in, and he fell quickly into a dreamless sleep.

 _A/N: Did you catch my shameless Beauty and the Beast reference? Let me know if you did, because Groose is clearly Gaston, just better. Also, I have a little question for you guys: what do you think about the characters at the Knight Academy having parents? I know Pipit and Zelda do, but as for the rest of them, they seem to be orphans. If you have any good theories about it, then I might stick it in the story. :)_

 _As usual, feedback is loved and appreciated._

 _Until next time!_


	7. Keep thy Shop

_Keep thy shop and thy shop will keep thee._

 _-Benjamin Franklin_

* * *

Two weeks passed in a blur, and by then, nearly everyone had forgotten about Rupin and the implications of his departure.

The weather grew colder with passing time, but Groose's Yooses was filled with the heat of bustling commerce, of every person in the village picking up goods and holding them into the light, dashing over to the table and slapping down a heap of rupees before running off with their newly purchased goods. The fireplace roared with constant heat and tall, orange flames that charred the stone chimney and filled the village with the appetizing scent of pumpkins and fire; the smell itself was free advertizing as he warmed up the house every morning before opening.

Groose's toes were still wrapped and broken, or just bruised very badly, and he had to hobble around on a crutch when it was necessary to go places, but for the most part, he sent Cawlin and Strich to go out each evening and spend their earnings on asking others to refurbish or sell old goods into the cycle. Peater was assigned with the task of making clothing as quickly as possible, and soon, they had an impressive variety of cloaks, gloves, hats, shirts, pants, dresses and even jewelry to sell, which the villagers purchased just as fast as Peater could make it. Enlisting the help of his daughter, Peater brought over stacks of clothes each morning, Peatrice trailing behind him, shooting her best smile at Groose whenever they'd come in, but he'd always look away, pretend not to notice her.

Speaking of noticing, Zelda hadn't made another appearance in the store since the incident with Pipit- though, neither had Pipit, the wound was too raw- and given that Groose hadn't left the store much with his foot in the condition it was, he hadn't seen Zelda in two weeks. Admittedly, though, he was so busy that he didn't have time to mope or hurt with the sting of rejection. He did hear people talking about her, how lately she kept to herself, only talking to Link, and even that was rare. Link, however, did stop by the store from time to time, only to perhaps buy lunch, which was usually just watered-down, over-spiced pumpkin soup, and sometimes a baked good if he could negotiate some flour or sugar from the other villagers.

Groose's pumpkin patch outside of his house was diminishing quickly, as was most of the pumpkins in the village as he purchased and traded them, and without the ability to take gourds from the forest, food was once more scarce, but Groose managed by sending Cawlin and Strich to venture near the temple and look for small birds or squirrels they could cook up. Soon, the villagers found no reason to be repulsed by the meat they were eating- that was what was available, and they were going to eat it to survive.

Eventually, Groose found it necessary to hire Gondo for a rather demanding wage, so he could work and repair things on site, rather than have Cawlin and Strich go to him every night to plead for him to disgruntledly refurbish tools. He also hired Piper to make soup during store hours, so that the work wouldn't fall on Cawlin and Strich, who were _supposed_ to be manning the table where goods were bought, but they mostly fought pettily over whose turn it was to stir the soup, or if they they could discount a dress Kina.

In the morning, Groose would wake up, ready himself, and begin setting tables up in his living and dining room as best as he could with his debilitating foot condition before Cawlin and Strich would mope exhaustedly over at eight in the morning to help. Gondo, Peater, and Piper would join them at nine with the goods they had created yesterday evening to set up their stands around his house, and at ten, the store would swing its doors open for business, and would close once more at noon for a lunch break. At one, it would reopen, and would remain so until six in the evening when they'd scooch the customers out, and the ordeal would repeat the next day, with only Sundays as a day off.

He had gotten word that Fledge was much better, but was having difficulty walking and required a cane from time to time. Groose hadn't seen him yet, but the image of young Fledge hobbling around like an old man was regrettably funny.

Groose was sure he was losing muscle, because every time he glanced in the mirror, his arms looked less defined and his chest less brawny. Without the ability to venture into the forest and retrieve gourds, he had no way to make hair gel, and likewise, his pompadour was looking more floppy and pathetic than ever. Nonetheless, the rest of the village seemed to glow with prosperity, the children running and playing with vigour enviable of their times in Skyloft, and the smiles that grew wider each day as people ventured into his store.

It was exhausting, but there was never a dull moment.

By the time an entire month had passed, and Groose's foot was almost completely healed, Wryna announced that she was pregnant with a second child, a sibling for Kukiel. With the joy of a forthcoming new child, the village seemed to radiate happiness and business boomed. Wanting to seize the opportunity of a beaming and joyful village, Groose decided to declare the next day a holiday to give his employees- and himself- a much needed day off.

That day, he slept until ten and took his time, something that had become a rarity. Cautiously, he found he was able to put his weight on his foot almost entirely, and ditched his crutch for the day victoriously. After dressing himself, he stepped outside into the icy autumn air, listening to the crunch of frosted grass beneath his boots, and took a deep breath. It had been difficult, but he had done it: the entire village was wrapped snuggly around his finger because of his flourishing store, and they were entirely better off than when Rupin had been running the general store.

People were mulling about, wisps of smoke curling from chimney tops and the last of the leaves were falling dead from the forest trees. Without the lush greenery, the forest looked far larger and empty.

Groose squinted at a figure in the distance. Down the path, he could see a smear of pink and gold, and just at the sight of her, his heart started thumping in his chest with just as much vigor as it had a month ago when she came into the shop to purchase the textbook. He stepped onto the road, ready to begin striding towards her, but stopped in his tracks before he got any closer.

Given that Zelda hadn't spoken with him in almost a month, Groose suddenly found himself apprehensive to talk to her- if she'd even talk to him at all. He shuddered, remembering how furious she had looked, how he never thought he'd recover from that glare she had given him. But he'd never find her forgiveness if he didn't try, and so he picked up his pace once more and headed towards her.

Unfortunately, right as he was a good fifteen paces away from Zelda, the door from another house swung open and Link stepped out. Groose looked from side to side, searching for a hiding spot, but it was too late.

"Hey, Groose!" Link shouted eagerly, waving his hand up in greeting, "I see your foot's better."

Zelda whirled around on her heel and instantly, Groose knew she wasn't the same person he had last seen.

Her eyes seemed to be sunken in, her face gaunt, and her blonde hair had grown thin and stringy like straw. In her features and neck, she seemed a lot thinner than before, as her dress hung loosely on his shoulders, which was saying something, considering she was already quite thin to begin with.

Zelda stared at Groose for a brief moment, alarmed, then turned to face Link and grinned, "Hi, Link." Her voice sounded raspy, and Link winced at the sound.

Groose frowned, "Hi, Link, hi, Zelda." The greeting was weak, kind of like how he felt at the moment. Link shot Groose a brief, unreadable glance.

The three stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment, previous events preceding any conversation they might have. While Groose might not always say the right thing, he knew it was against all the rules in the book to comment on a girl's appearance, and so he left the topic of Zelda's obviously weaker state in the air.

"Um, how are you?" Groose asked to the both of them.

Instead of answering, Zelda rolled her eyes, "Groose, don't even bother trying for light conversation."

Taken aback, but thankful either way that he wouldn't have to make anything up, Groose sighed in relief, "That's nice to hear-"

"But…" Zelda turned around, her voice sounding quieter than it ever had before. "Don't bother with any conversation, Groose. I'm not in the mood."

And like that, any attempt at winning Zelda's affections had been smashed, crushed under the heel of her boot. Groose's face fell, his breath caught in his chest.

Link cleared his throat, "Groose, do you think I could come over for lunch? I spent the morning out for a walk, I'm kind of hungry." He quickly added, "I'll pay you."

At first, Groose was befuddled, but one look at Link, and he knew there was an alternative motive, "No need, Link. It's a day off, consider it ol' Groose taking care of a friend."

Link forced a smile and nodded, "See you later, Zelda."

"Bye," Zelda muttered softly, in a voice that sounded astoundingly unlike her own.

Groose felt his heart clench in his chest, and instantly his face grew haggard with concern, but Link's expression spoke to him: _wait until we're inside_.

Ushering Link inside his house, Groose shut the door behind him and began pouring a leftover bottle of pumpkin soup with trembling hands into a pot on the stove.

While it heated, he joined Link at the table, sitting across from him, "Alright, so what's up with Zelda?" Groose asked, "I know she's never very pleased with me, but she's never looked so sad or weak before."

Link bit his lip, taking a moment to think before he responded, "I'm not exactly sure."

"Psh, then why are you here? Did you just want free soup?"

"No," Link said cautiously, "But just listen for a second. Zelda isn't talking to me as much, but I don't think it has anything to do with me. She's not eating very much, but I know for a fact that she has food at her house. Gaepora is worried about her, too."

"So, what's your theory?" Groose stood up at the sound of the soup boiling and began ladling it into two bowls.

"I… think it has something to do with you."

Groose dropped the ladle, "Why is it _my_ fault?!" He replaced the ladle and began bringing the bowls towards the table, careful not to spill any soup over the edges.

"Listen, Groose," Link pressed, frustrated, "No one is blaming you, or anyone. Certainly not me. It's just that Zelda only started acting weird after that day when Pipit burst into your shop and accused you of prompting him to attack the Kikwi Chief."

Groose winced and frowned into his soup, "Well, I doubt that has anything to do with me. She's made it quite clear that she doesn't care what I do."

"I don't know…" Link took a sip of his soup, "But if you talking to her will possibly solve something, then it's worth a shot, isn't it?"

Groose bit the inside of his cheeks nervously. An invitation to talk with Zelda, and for the first time ever, he was almost object to it. Laughing cynically to himself, Groose examined Link's face, bearing the most painful expression of worry on Link's normally stoic face and felt deeply sympathetic for him, which was an odd feeling in retrospect. Zelda was Link's best friend, and for once, he didn't know what to do- and here was Groose's opportunity to help.

"Go get her," Groose instructed, "Go get her and bring her here for lunch. I'll make some more soup."

Link nodded, obliged, and stood up quickly, nearly knocking over his soup in the process. Sighing heavily, Groose watched him leave and began pouring more soup into the pot. While it cooked, it occurred to him that he could make some changes around here. He laid a maroon tablecloth down on the table, set out a third bowl and spoon, and found an old candle and lit it on the table. It looked romantic in all other ways besides the painful fact that there were three bowls, not two.

The door creaked open again, and Link entered, Zelda holding his hand and looking very resistant to the whole idea. Groose studied her expression carefully as she looked around the room, taking in what he had created over the last month: the tables and shelves lining the perimeter of the room, signs raised with prices on them, and the dining room table before her as Groose poured soup into a bowl.

However, she remained stoic, and Groose could not read a single one of her thoughts.

Link led her to her seat and she sat down, sitting down beside her, and Groose on her other side.

"I'm not hungry," Zelda deadpanned.

"Bull," Groose sneered, finding that his language made Zelda recoil slightly, "Eat."

Zelda's glare could probably split rock, "Don't tell me what to do, Groose."

She might have appeared ill, but Zelda certainly still carried fire with her words. This time, it was his turn to recoil.

Sensing the uncomfortable, thorny tension that had once more settled down upon them, Link interrupted, "Zelda, you look ill. Really, you should eat."

Zelda raised an eyebrow, "Do I?" She shook her head, "Please, Link, tell me what this is about. This isn't any casual lunch, and you know it."

Link reached for her hand, but she placed her hand under the table.

" _Zelda_ ," Link pleaded, his expression pained, "You're not well, and all I want is to have you back, to have you happy again.

"What does _he_ have to do with it?" Zelda scoffed, gesturing in the general direction of Groose. Ah, well, at least she was acknowledging him.

"I think you know."

Groose honestly didn't expect it to work, but Link's presence was enough to be the trigger, and her lip began to quiver and face redden, eyes welling up as her face collapsed into her hands. Her shoulders shook with sobs as Link extended an arm around her.

Unsettled, Groose felt the desire to touch her, too, like Link was. But he knew- they all knew- he was in no position to do that.

"It's just that I'm the Goddess Hylia, I have my memories, but I'm also Zelda. And as Zelda I… I don't know what to do or how to do help us make it through the winter. Does that make sense? I don't have any powers, and no one can really relate to me, unfortunately. It's this huge responsibility and there's no one who can mentor me."

As Zelda composed herself, Groose felt a sick feeling form in the pit of his stomach. For the reason he had always seen her as something for him, that he was the one who would suffer to win her affections, he felt bitterly deep remorse. He had almost forgotten that she, too, no matter how perfect she was in his eyes, could experience feelings of worthlessness.

"Zelda…" Groose sighed, searching the air for words. Unlike Link, he couldn't comfort her with merely his presence, but it wasn't a sin to try. "You might be a goddess, and that's cool, but it doesn't make you responsible for us when you're Zelda. You don't have to always know what to do to be a leader. If it hadn't been for Impa's help, I wouldn't've been able to create the Groosenator and save the day! Or at least help…" He added.

To his surprise, Zelda laughed sheepishly.

Feeling like he had momentum, Groose continued, "And you do help everyone out, Zelda. When you walk past people, they sort of light up, kind of like how the Sealed Temple looked really boring and gray all the time, but when the sun came out, it'd kind of pour in through the windows, and just that was enough to make the whole temple bright.

Zelda's eyes softened and Groose knew he had said too much.

"Thank you, Groose," Zelda wiped her eyes, "I suppose I've been treating you so harshly because I'm jealous that you've been so successful and that everyone likes you so much. I guess that's why I've kind of been retreating from everyone."

"Everyone likes you," Groose countered.

She shook her head, "That's not what I mean. You've worked very hard to help the village that would otherwise die, if not for your efforts. So, for sure this time-" Zelda grinned brightly, "I'm sorry for doubting you when you've known what you're doing this whole time, but I want you to promise me something."

 _Know what I'm doing?_ Groose thought, _More like just got lucky around some really hungry people._

Groose raised an eyebrow incredulously.

"Stop using sneaky business tactics to make more money, okay?"

Feeling a smile creep on to his lips, Groose nodded, "You got it, Zelda."

Taking a large spoonful from her soup, Zelda exhaled, a huge weight being lifted from her shoulders. "By the way, Groose, how did you hurt your foot?"

* * *

For hours, they talked over their soup until the candle wick was down to merely an inch and the sun had started to set into the premature darkness that winter provided. Groose explained his goals for the store, Link described his plans to eventually reinstate diplomacy with the Kikwi tribe in hopes of reopening the forest and sending out more search parties for Karane, and Zelda revealed things she and her father discussed about how to further make homes more thief-proof. (The culprit who had robbed Cawlin had yet to be caught.)

Soon, all three of them were yawning, and Zelda admitted that she had some much needed sleep to catch up on. Link agreed, handed Zelda her cloak, and tied his own around his shoulders. Groose saw them out, but as Link stepped out of the door, Zelda faltered and turned to Groose.

Groose stared at her for a moment, wondering if he had done something wrong, if he was supposed to do something gentlemanly- he _was_ holding the door, but was there something else?

"Come here, Groose." Zelda extended her arms and suddenly she was embracing him, her arms over his and her face against his chest and he froze in place. He glanced up at Link, who was standing in the doorway, smiling warmly. Hesitantly, cautiously, Groose wrapped his arms around her back and it was the closest he'd ever been to her, better than he'd ever imagined. Her hair was soft on his hands and her skin warm.

She let go of him all too soon, and Groose took an unconscious step backwards. As she waved goodbye and Groose closed the door behind her, his heart was doing backflips and flying in a way that was all too similar to the feeling he felt when he used to fly with his Loftwing.

While he hadn't gone many places that day, it had probably been one of the most productive in his life.

* * *

"She hugged you?!" Cawlin gaped, dumping an armful of clothes on the table and writing down a price on the tags. "Damn, Groose, that's a step and a half above anything you did in Skyloft. Especially considering that she was the one who initiated it."

Strich nodded in agreement, "Maybe you do have a chance, Groose. You impressed her with your sensitivity, and then- _boom_ \- she couldn't resist you."

"It was a _hug_ , okay?" Groose clarified, setting up the rupee crates in the corner, "She probably went home and made out with Link, anyway."

Cawlin and Strich had been helping set up for nearly an hour while Groose relayed the events of the previous evening to them. He had retold himself the story a million times before he fell asleep the previous night, wondering what he could've done differently, what it _really_ meant, but he came to no conclusion, and here he was, telling the same story to his friends, attempting to embellish it as little as possible.

"I don't know, Groose," Cawlin smirked, "Hugs are pretty serious. This could be a confession of some sort."

"Are you guys mocking me?" Groose huffed, straightening the finances log on his desk. He didn't wait for an answer, "But we'll see how this goes. It was probably just a moment of weakness for her and my suaveness caught her off guard- you never know, though."

They finished setting up, and soon, Piper, Peater, and Gondo arrived soon with cooking supplies, new clothes, and tools respectively; within the hour, Groose was flipping the sign over and opening the door.

They day passed per usual, with good sales, a warm atmosphere, and almost more work than they could handle. But when they reopened for the afternoon after lunch, Zelda was the first one to step in, a basket at her side and a dark red dress covering her frame and accentuating her blue eyes. Her cheeks were pink from the cold air and she relished in the warmth of the shop, taking a deep breath in. As the first one to step into the shop before the afternoon rush, all eyes were on her- but mostly just Groose's.

She beamed, looking merrier and brighter than the day before.

"Hello, I've come to return the book I… stole." Flustered, Zelda pulled the textbook from her basket that she had swiped off the counter after Pipit's outburst and laid it on the table before Groose.

Groose looked from her to the book, and then back at her again, before shaking his head dismissively, "No, Zelda. It's yours." He scooched the book towards her, "I was going to give you the book anyway."

"I, admittedly, read the whole thing already, but…" She pulled her wallet off her belt, "At least let me pay for it, if you won't let me return it."

Glancing at her wallet, Groose bit his lip, "That's not necessary. We've earned our quota already today, Zelda, and while I appreciate the gesture-"

Cawlin slammed his heel into Groose's injured foot and continued for him, "And because we appreciate it, we'll give you a special price on it."

Groose's eye twitched as he suppressed a shout of pain after Cawlin removed his foot. "Take the money, Groose," He said under his breath, "Girls like it when you let them win."

Eager to comply with anything that would please Zelda, Groose forgot to remember that Cawlin had been single his entire life. "If you insist, Zelda..." Groose clapped his hands together, "How does, uhh… fifteen rupees sound?"

"That's a little low, don't you think?" Zelda scowled as she dug around in her wallet and removed three blue rupees.

"It's an old textbook- boring stuff, you know? I don't think-" He lifted up the textbook with one hand and accentuated his muscles, but as soon as it turned vertically, sand spilled out of the binding and pages.

Groose looked at it incredulously, his sentence caught in his throat as the table presented a meager pile of sand, sparkling and golden, twinkling at him.

Zelda frowned, "Sand? There wasn't anything in it when I read it last; I would've noticed, I'm sure."

Strich took a few steps over to Groose, then leaned over a great distance to meet his height with the table. Inspecting it closely, he raised an eyebrow, "That's odd. But you know, Zelda, there's a certain kind of insect called a paper mite, which likes to hide in pages and eat through the paper- literal book worms- and when they're crushed up, they kind of look like sand."

Cawlin shuddered with revulsion.

Zelda pondered the notion, but ultimately shook her head. "That's a good thought, but I this really looks like sand. I guess it just didn't fall out when I carried it horizontally, but it all fell out when Groose picked it up."

Groose shrugged, "Well, Zelda, you paid for the book, you're welcome to keep it. I guess the sand is just a little bonus."

"Thank you, guys," Zelda nodded at them and they shot a collection of affectionate 'good-byes' back at her. As she was heading out the door, textbook back in her basket, Luv stepped in, and the two collided, Zelda's basket dropping to the floor with a _thud_ and Luv wobbling dangerously on her legs.

"Pardon me!" Zelda apologized, retrieving her basket before Groose could scurry over and pick it up for her. She extended a hand to steady the women, "I'm _so_ sorry, Mrs. Braaten. Are you all right?"

Groose suppressed a snicker. Of course Luv was okay, at least physically. As for her pride…

Luv put on her calmest front, which in fact was a very grim and disgruntled smile, and turned from Zelda's grasp, "It's alright, hon. I must've been distracted."

Zelda muttered a few more meek apologies and scrambled out the door. Groose folded his arms at his chest and huffed. _Luv_ should be the one apologizing, not Zelda. But he didn't have time to think about who needed whose forgiveness, because Luv was stepping into the shop. Groose heard Cawlin let out an exasperated sigh, followed by a noise that was probably Strich elbowing him.

As Luv neared Groose, he noticed Piper turn her focus on stirring her soup, Gondo begin aimlessly twisting string in between his fingers, and Peater become increasingly focused on threading a needle.

"Groose," Luv stopped right in front of the table, her hands clasped in front of her like a middle-aged school girl, "I have a request of you."

Without waiting for him to prompt her, she continued, "I would like a job here."

Groose dropped his professional demeanor and snorted, "Did you say you couldn't make any potions without bugs?" He pointed to Strich beside him, "And this kid will gouge out his own eyes before he'll let anyone take them."

Luv seemed a little disturbed- granted, so did Strich, at the mention of his beloved insects being mushed into potions- but she hurried to defend herself. "That may be true, but I've devised a way to extend the herbs and some of the grasses around here into something very nice indeed. And considering I was your first customer way back when you started this little business, I think you owe it to me, hmm?"

Groose narrowed his eyes- what did _he_ owe _her_? But nonetheless, customers needed to be kept happy, and it'd be terribly bad for business if he refused her an interview. "Tomorrow at noon," Groose agreed, "Come over for lunch and we'll have an interview then."

Luv seemed reasonably satisfied, but gestured to Cawlin and Strich with her elbow, "Those two weren't interviewed, were they?"

While that rang some truth, Groose dismissed her point easily, "No, but _those two_ are kind of into this up to their necks, so it doesn't really matter."

Clearly seeing no point in arguing it further, Luv bid them good day and left, leaving them to the afternoon shift. Uneventfully, the rest of the day passed, and by five-thirty, Groose had had enough of watching Gully try to decide between two different pastries and Peatrice sneak glances at him from over the shelf of dresses, and let himself out for a bit of fresh air.

Outside, the dim light of twilight was the only remaining evidence that day had ever cast its beams on the village. Groose instantly wish he had grabbed his cloak on the way out the door, because with the passing of day, any warm air had vanished. The naked tree branches scarred the star-dotted sky like lightning bolts, providing a bowl-like perimeter around the village- a perimeter that did little to protect.

A few houses down, Luv was sweeping her front porch with vigorous, almost violent movements, but what really caught his attention was the sound of a hammer against wood. A smudge of green, barely visible in the darkness, was pounding a hammer on a tree trunk next to a house. Groose scoffed to himself. That wasn't how you cut down a tree.

Begrudgingly, Groose stalked over to the figure and the tree, the hammering getting louder as he neared the source. It didn't take him long to realize that the man with the hammer was Link, and he was not in fact trying to cut down the tree, but hammer a paper and nail into it, and that he should really consider getting glasses.

"Hey, Link," Groose greeted, "What're you doing?" He cocked his head, furrowing his brow as Link took another swing at the nail and paper, only to have the nail bend and fall out of the tree and the paper sail down onto the grass beside it. Groose leaned over to pick up the paper and studied it, squinting to read it in the darkness.

Breathing heavily, Link wiped his forehead with his sleeve, "I've been at this for almost an hour. It's a flyer and I need to get it up on the tree, but it won't stay."

Ignoring his lament, Groose read the paper aloud, "Fall Festival, In two weeks time, Ask a special someone to the festivities, Will be music, dancing, games, and refreshments…" Groose trailed off. He looked up at Link incredulously, "What is this?"

Link dropped the hammer on the ground, "Exactly what it sounds like, Groose. A Fall Festival. Gaepora organized it. He thinks the village is well off enough right now that we ought to let ourselves celebrate. And…" Link gestured to the paper, "He was wondering if your store would provide the food. Probably should've asked before we wrote it, now that I think of it…"

Placing his hands triumphantly on his hips, Groose conceded, "Psh, easy. Not even a problem."

"Good," Link nodded eagerly, taking the paper from Groose and attempting to fasten it to the tree once more, "But Groose, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

Pushing Link on the shoulder and easily forcing him aside, Groose snatched the hammer, nail and paper from Link and began doing the work for him, "What is it? Do you want to work at the store, too?"

"Um, no. It's that I think there's something more to Karane's disappearance. I think it might be related to the robbery, and maybe even Rupin leaving. Although, it's probably most likely that the robbery is just a result of someone panicking about Rupin leaving."

Groose readied the hammer again, and in one swift swing, got the nail to remain in place as he continued driving it into the tree, "And what does this have to do with me?"

"Tomorrow night," Link explained, "I want you to help me do a little bit of investigating. I kind of want to check out Rupin's old shop, and maybe even go into the forest for a little bit. Pipit's still optimistic about Karane, as am I, and so I think it'd do some good."

Groose let out a low whistle, the nail now thoroughly burrowed into the tree, "Into the forest? Sounds risky. But…" He turned towards Link and sighed, leaning against the tree, "You usually have a good sense about these things, so I don't doubt you. Count me in."

Link seemed relieved, "Thanks, Groose. It really helps a lot, you know. But make sure you're geared up enough. After the incident with the oktoroks, I don't know what could be out there."

Satisfied with Groose's handiwork, Link nodded and left in the direction of his house, though Groose suspected he was headed towards Zelda and Gaepora's residence.

Groose took a long look at the poster nailed to the tree. Things must _certainly_ be going well if Gaepora is calling for a celebration, and to be honest, Groose was quite sure that most of it had to do with his work.

But that was no matter, because Groose was in the absolutely _perfect_ position to make the most out of one of the lines on the flyer.

And it didn't have anything to do with refreshments.

 _A/N: And there you have it! Do you think it was out of character for Zelda to cry? She is a pretty strong character, but people do have their moments. Let me know what you think._

 _I'm going to try and update as frequently as possible for the remainder of the month, if it's reasonable. I'm starting the International Baccalaureate Program and it's going to provide two very hectic, strenuous years for me. Despite that, I will not abandon this story- I love it too much. I hope you, too, will stay with me, because I will work on it during all my free time. Thank you for reading!_


	8. Three Things

_Think of three things: Whence you came, Where you are going, And to whom you must account._

 _-Benjamin Franklin_

* * *

"Interested in archery, Orielle?"

Groose hadn't intended to startle her, but the bow and quiver she was holding were sent flying, the brandished wood clattering on the floor before her. He would've helped her pick it up, but his arms were full with a stacks of newly sewn cloaks with a destination in the shelf.

She retrieved the dropped goods herself, muttering a few quick apologies in the process.

"No need to apologize, Orielle," Groose covered quickly. He eyed the bow in her arms, its dark, brandished wood reflective in the dim morning light of the shop; outside, a presence of gloom had swept in along with the perpetual rain, creating the aura of a hearth in the shop.

He reached for the bow in her arms and she handed it over easily. In closer detail than he had yet done, he examined it. The wood was glossy and sleek, dark and lustrous in the firelight of the shop. Gondo had created it last night, triumphantly declaring it his finest work in years, and _insisted_ that Groose price it at one hundred fifty rupees- no lower, or it'd be a sin. And truth be told, it _was_ worth that much, probably more. But because of the price, it hadn't been sold, rather, sitting on the shelf like a relic.

People had eyed it with desire as they passed it, kind of like how Orielle was looking at it now, but no one had guts to lay that kind of investment now- and to be honest, Groose wasn't sure how many people knew how to shoot besides Link.

"But, yeah," Orielle affirmed, "I am interested in archery, actually. And the bow really _is_ nice. I don't think I've ever seen a bow of this quality."

Groose handed it to her and she ran her fingers along the polished wood. "So you're familiar with archery?" He asked.

"Oh, you bet!" She exclaimed. Groose began walking towards the shelf that was his initial destination and she followed behind. Reaching up, Groose stocked the shelf with the cloaks and stepped back. Rows of shelves were now lining his living room, creating a labyrinth in his home, so filled with people that the line often snaked out of his front door. Sometimes he wondered if he should add an additional room, or even turn his bedroom- the only room where he wasn't up to his knees in customers and goods- into a separate room for clothes only.

Satisfied with the full shelf, Groose turned back to Orielle, "Where did you learn?"

"My brother taught me back when we lived on Skyloft. It wasn't much, but I got kind of good at it. Sometimes we'd borrow targets from the academy and practice with them," Orielle explained. She let out a soft sigh, probably remembering Skyloft fondly- most of them did that from time to time, yearning, searching for a sense of nostalgia.

Sensing an opportunity, Groose led her back down between a few shelves, guiding her with a hand on her shoulder. "You know, Orielle, the bow doesn't have to be that expensive."

Orielle snapped, appalled, " _Excuse me?_ "

Groose's face fell in horror and heated up into cherry-red embarrassment, "Oh, uh, gods, no… that came out wrong. That's umm…" He took in a deep breath as an attempt to recover. "What I meant was that I can give you a special price on the bow if you promise to go hunting with it and sell what you kill to the store."

"Really?" The awkward misunderstanding gone, Orielle's face lit up, "That sounds fantastic! What's your price?"

"Oh, hmm…" Groose mused, inspecting the bow like he was appraising it- which was something he admittedly didn't actually know how to do. "How does one hundred and… ten rupees sound?" Gondo was going to kill him.

Orielle bit her lip, hesitating, "That's still kind of pricey, don't you think?"

Groose shrugged, knowing he'd have to negotiate for this one if he wanted to keep Gondo as an employee, "Well it's a really nice bow. Finest ever. It comes with a quiver and arrows, too. I can't just give it away."

Orielle gripped the bow tightly, frowning at it in her hands. In essence, he'd be making a profit no matter what, as long as she was able to shoot down a few birds, but that didn't mean she could get him to cut down the price by smiling a little.

"One hundred," Orielle demanded dauntingly.

"One hundred and five," Groose countered instantly.

"...Fine." Orielle pulled out her wallet and produced a handful of the required rupees. Dumping them into Groose's hand, she balanced the bow with the other arm. From the shelf, she retrieved the quiver and arrows, "I'll bring back what I hunt every few days, okay? Thanks, Groose!"

As she was making her way out, Groose knew Gondo must have seen the transaction, and if not, Groose wouldn't be able to keep it from him for long- he was a _terrible_ liar.

Nonetheless, he returned to the sales table to join Cawlin and Strich, having killed two birds- literally- with one stone, or in this case, arrow. With the prospect of more food to make, Groose was elated, but the threat of running out of flour and sugar was becoming more and more imminent each day as he bought goods off of the villagers. They had exhausted almost all of their staple goods since the store had opened, but people still bought products off of the shelves with just as much speed as they had before. Groose had discussed with Cawlin and Strich about alternatives to flour, but neither of them had any ideas beyond using sawdust as a filler. (Interesting idea, but no- he'd never stoop so low.)

It would be nearing noon, soon, and they'd break for lunch, which meant he'd have to interview Luv soon; he'd been dreading it all day.

Cawlin sent Fledge on his way with a new tunic, who was still using a cane to walk (which wasn't as funny as Groose had expected), being a constant reminder of the day in the forest over a month ago. Fortunately, Fledge didn't seem to hold any kind of grudge and had hobbled into the store for the first time that morning, practically beaming. It was remarkable what a little amount of time could do.

"So Orielle bought the bow?" Cawlin asked as Groose dumped the rupees into the crate, "And you gave her a discount, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," Groose insisted nonchalantly, turning his head to see if Gondo was listening in. He seemed engrossed in his work, but you could never truly tell with him. "What makes you think that?"

"You almost _always_ give girls discounts. And no one would _actually_ pay one-hundred fifty rupees for that. It's only expensive so we can say that we have fancy merchandise." Cawlin reprimanded, "Quit knocking down all the prices."

"He has a point," Strich added.

"Okay, you got me," Groose surrendered, "But here's the catch: she's going to sell us what she hunts, and then we'll mark up the prices on the food." He clasped his hands together, "So _please_ don't tell Gondo- he won't understand."

"But you know, Groose," Strich said gently, in the passive tone he always used when trying to sway him, "You don't have to worry about selling everything. We're already well off." Reaching behind him and grabbing the finance log, he thoughtfully jotted down some numbers.

"I hate to say it," Strich continued, totalling the numbers in his head. He had to lean down a great deal to meet the pen with the paper, and even then, his back was a long, thin plank. "But everyone here is completely reliant on us now. We don't need to make any more deals."

Groose pondered this thought for a moment. While that was true, that the circulation of labor and goods prompted the flow of money in their economy, he knew there'd come a time when there were nothing left in the village to exploit, no more pumpkins to harvest or cloth to weave. It was then that they'd have to scrounge the forest for resources, which was indefinetly not an option.

Who knew if Orielle would prove useful, but his days of spurning others were- mostly- dead in Skyloft, because he knew that, just like everyone else, enlisting the help of those capable would do him some good. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't skilled.

"You guys need foresight. There's a reason you two always just scraped by in school: you're not willing to work with good ol' fashioned labor." Groose clapped his hands together as if he was brushing off dust, "We can't drop our game. You never know what opportunities could come up."

"I know what kind of opportunities _you're_ looking for," Strich muttered under his breath, but Groose chose to ignore him.

All around the shop, Groose had tacked up more flyers like those that Link had tried nailing to the tree the previous night. They were impossible to avoid, pinned to shelves and each wall with such frequency that they almost created a wallpaper themselves. Customers _ooh_ -ed and _ah_ -ed with delight at the prospect of a festival, of dancing, of finally taking a break after months of hardships and just _celebrating_ that they had survived, they had made it.

But for Groose, those things were trivial, because what _really_ was a true sell-out in his mind were the words drawn out in perfect handwriting right beneath the phrase _two weeks time_.

Asking someone. A partner- like a date. It _was_ a date, could be one, and of course, Groose knew _exactly_ who he would be asking, when the opportunity arose. It was a sticky situation, and he'd have to delicately walk over the thin ice with suave but careful steps if he was going to succeed in getting Zelda to go with him.

Of course, it was possible that Link was going to ask her, but like Cawlin had said last week: hugs were pretty serious.

"Groose!" Cawlin snapped his fingers, "Quit day-dreaming and help me already!" He presented a stackful of hats Peater had finished sewing and nearly dumped them on the floor, if Groose hadn't been there to catch them. Knowing Cawlin wouldn't be able to reach the shelf where they were supposed to rest, Groose snorted and used his superior height to put them away.

Cawlin left the table to go help Piper dish out some bowls of soup, muttering something about his _stupid genetics_.

That left Groose and Strich to usher the last few customers out as the clock struck noon and the peacefulness of the lunch hour would settle in, the savior that it was. Except for the fact that, like a tyrant forced to give fair trial, he was obligated to give Luv an equal chance at a job.

"She'll be here soon," Cawlin lamented, practically slamming his head on the table as Piper poured him a bowl of soup, "Can I stay in your bedroom during the interview, Groose?"

"I don't see why you guys dislike her so much," Strich joined him at the table and took a long, drawn out sip from his bowl. "All she wants is a job."

Groose stretched, his back cracking and popping from having stood so long. He, Gondo, Peater, and Piper all took their seats, leaving a single one out for when Luv would arrive. Being next to the empty chair, Cawlin glared at Strich until he took the hint and they switched places.

"You don't _get_ it, Strich," Cawlin moaned into his soup, "She's controlling… in a weird way. Like her own husband is terrified of her. No man should be terrified of his own wife."

The sudden image of Link and Zelda, married, filled his head, and he pictured Zelda scolding Link, her face pink with boiling fury at his tendency to sleep until noon. It was a wonderful notion at both their expenses.

"True," Strich agreed.

On cue, there was a polite rap at the door and Groose got up to answer it. In entered Luv, dressed in her Sunday best- an earthy, green dress and apron- her hair done up in a tight bun per usual, and a knowing smile turning her lips up at the corners. Slung over her shoulder was a large tote. She took her seat next to Strich, who still didn't seem to mind her presence. Cawlin, however, was still glaring daggers at her.

"Would you like some soup, Luv?" Piper offered a clay bowl full of the frothy, orange concoction.

"Oh, yes, indeed," Luv accepted the bowl graciously.

"Now," Groose said in his most dignified voice, folding his hands on the table, "Like all of the other employees here, you'll have to show a skill we wouldn't be able to do ourselves or get elsewhere."

"Naturally."

Cawlin scowled, "Well, then, what is it?"

"Hold your horses, young man," Luv giggled. Fumbling for her tote, she spread apart the cloth and placed it on the table, like a presentation, with the opening facing Groose. Inside rested a forest, a brambled collection of greenery, and before Groose could examine it further, Cawlin yanked it across the table towards his seat.

As Luv protested, Cawlin took a fistful of the plants and theatrically sniffed them. Groose was sure he was nearly about to eat them when Strich took the liberty of interrupting, "Uh, Cawlin, I'm sure Mrs. Braaten worked very hard to collect those… herbs." He extended a long arm and retrieved them from Cawlin.

"Indeed I did," Luv confirmed. She delicately reached across the table and returned the tote to the place before her, "Here's the ultimatum, young man: for twelve rupees an hour, I will make potions for your shop at a price that I dictate as acceptable. If these terms are not acceptable, then…" She shook her head and raised her eyebrows a half inch, "Well, I don't think it'll do you any good to have competition."

Affronted, Groose straightened to his full height in his seat. The sheer abrasiveness of her -well, he might as well call it a threat, because that was what it was- was _more_ than he had anticipated, but it wasn't like Luv to just roll over and accept without knowing in what way she would be affected. For a woman who didn't like window shoppers, she was within the boundaries of her own character; the Surface hadn't changed her as much as Groose had initially believed.

This interview: _was_ it his pitiful attempt at humoring her? Or could he possibly gain from her contribution to the shop? He found himself eyeing Cawlin peripherally for any indications of his reaction.

"Wait a second," Cawlin sneered, slapping a doughy hand on the table, "If you can just _make_ your own potions and sell them, which you've kindly reminded us of, what's so special about you joining our staff?"

Like a constant opposition, or at least, a translator, for Cawlin, Strich scrambled to put the words a bit more eloquently, "What Cawlin _means_ to say-"

"I _know_ what Cawlin has said, Strich, and I must say," She smiled sweetly, "I appreciate the honesty from a boy his age. The gods know there's very little of that around here anymore. Young Cawlin makes an excellent point, Groose, but it's in _your_ best interest to listen to what I have to say carefully."

Silence fell on the room like a blanket of snow- thick and frigid to the touch, leaving a hollowness in its wake- as they listened intently despite themselves.

"The more goods you have to sell, the more profits you'll make, right? Something as fundamental as potions would complete your shop, Groose. If I opened a shop for potions in my home, how long would it be before other villagers began making and buying goods for my store? And the customers- do you think they have any loyalty towards you? The only reason they shop here is because it's the _only_ option; believe me, Groose: I'm on your side, I want _just_ as much to help out the village in the ways I am able, but I also want to bring your shop to its greatest potential after all you've done for us." She hesitated briefly, fiddling with the stem of one of the herbs, "I hope I'm making my stance clear."

"You are," Groose assured. It was evident enough that she was either going to receive a job, or leave under the implication of opening her own store and attracting customers of her own.

Strich cleared his throat haughtily, "With all due respect, Mrs. Braaten, we're not exactly in this for the financial gain. I don't think we'd much mind if you opened up your own shop."

For the umpteenth time that day, Cawlin nudged Strich in a way that was anything less than subtle and muttered quite audibly, "Strich, that's not the _point_."

"Yes, I think that's very much _the point_ she's getting at!"

"That's because _you_ don't understand economics!"

"Groose," Strich finally broke away from his banter with Cawlin, "What do you have to say about it? I'm sure you'd know what decision would be best for the shop _and_ the village."

It occurred to Groose that he hadn't said much since the beginning of the conversation, having been caught up in his own thoughts concerning Luv's motives rather than what he actually thought his decision would be.

"Can you guys step out for a moment?" Groose turned in his chair, addressing Peater, Piper, Gondo, Cawlin and Strich, "I'm going to talk to Mrs. Braaten alone."

While they easily complied, Cawlin sighed melodramatically as he exited through the front door, likely disappointed at the withdrawn opportunity to deny Luv of her job.

When they had left, Groose turned his attention towards Luv with finality. She returned the stare, unblinking, unfaltering.

"You've got some very interesting staff members, Groose."

"I think it's best if we got straight to the point, Mrs. Braaten: why do you _really_ want to work here?"

She leaned back in her chair a degree- slight, but enough to change the atmosphere. "Groose, I've already told you. I want to help the village with my skill and help your store prosper. I figure I'd kill two birds with one stone and apply here."

"Well, that'd be all peaches and cream if it were true. You've just waltzed in here and threatened us by putting our customers on the line."

"Then what will you do when I open my _own_ store, with goods that outrun yours?"

"And how would I know if they would? For all I know, those herbs could be a bunch of grass."

Her lips curved into a knowing smile, "You'll just have to trust me."

Groose huffed; there wasn't any point in pretending, was there? "Well, sorry, but I don't. Cawlin doesn't, either, but Strich seems to be the only one of us with any kind of empathy." He laughed cynically, "Maybe you should hire him."

"I doubt very much that he'd enjoy himself, Groose. But the fact remains that this store is managed by three very young men who have little experience running a store. I…" She directed a finger at her own expression, "...have been running my own store for years. By default I have more experience than you, son."

Groose's hands twitched, but he said nothing.

"And it would be _awful_ if a certain _girl_ were to discover that you've denied a poor woman of her livelihood for something so simple as a _gut feeling_." She feigned a pout, "Especially right before the festival…"

His throat suddenly dry, Groose flustered, "Zelda wouldn't say yes to me, anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"Are you so sure?" She taunted, "Come on, Groose. Act like a man, _be_ a man. Stop letting your childish biases get in the way of your business. If you want my opinion-"

"With all due respect, I don't-"

"-that's the reason why Zelda can't go longer than a day without wanting to strangle you: you don't take anything seriously. I've been watching you two, Groose, and she seems to like this whole idea of a store. But it's not the business that needs to grow, it's _you_."

Groose swallowed thickly, a dusting of red covering his cheeks as he leaned his chin on his balled fist. Ah, she'd hit a nerve, and she knew it.

"Oh, don't be so down, Groose. It's just part of becoming an adult," Luv fawned, "How does this sound? I come here and work, share some of my knowledge of business with you, and every once in awhile, I put in a good word for you with Zelda. Hmm?"

Eyes darting back and forth between Luv and his own hands, he finally conceded, but with a great sense of relief, as if he had been restricting himself from the inevitable the whole time. "Yes."

He straightened his posture and cleared his throat loudly, "We're pretty crowded as is, so I'm going to alternate you and Gondo, though I doubt he'll appreciate it much. How about you come on Mondays, Wednesdays, and every other Friday?" With a flippant but apologetic wave of his hand, he stood and collected both their empty soup bowls, "I'll get it all worked out for you on paper later, what do you think?"

She hesitated, " _Alternating_?"

Groose placed the bowls in the sink, something he'd coerce Strich into cleaning later. "Yeah, of course. I can't have a cauldron of potions _and_ a workshop in my living room. But whatever," He returned to his seat swiftly, "Do we have a deal?"

Cautiously, as if it were Groose who had done the persuading, she extended her hand across the table. He sealed the handshake and the deal simultaneously.

"Come by the shop tomorrow, Mrs. Braaten, and we'll show you how things work around here," He released her hand and cleared his throat, "When you step outside, I'd be very grateful if you didn't say anything to Cawlin- or any of them, for that matter. Let me tell them."

Eyebrows raised and lips a thin line, her expression was unreadable. "I can do that," She remarked.

Groose observed as she collected her bag of herbs, stood, smoothed out her dress, and nodded in a temporary but understood farewell.

No sooner had the door swung shut with her leaving did it reopen explosively, and Cawlin barreled inside the store, followed by Strich staggering behind, futilely attempting to stop the former from causing damage.

"You _hired_ her, didn't you Groose?" Cawlin flared, slamming his palms on the table, "She just waltzed out and said _nothing_. But it wasn't like she was _moping_ or anything- she was _strutting_."

"Oh, so _what_? I gave in, okay? She won't be here _all_ the time, and you can ignore her if she's _really_ that much of a problem." Groose leapt from the table, "Where's everyone else, anyway?"

"We sent them home."

"What? Why?"

"If your own employees can't be in on the decisions that affect _all_ of us, then they shouldn't be your employees at all!"

"So you- did you _fire_ them?"

"No," Cawlin folded his arms close to his chest, "But Strich told them to take the day off. You can't just go hiring whoever you want, Groose, this is a _democracy_ -"

"It's _my_ store," Groose insisted, "I can hire whoever I want, when I want, and for what ever reason I want. Why do you hate Luv so much, anyway?" He began unpacking a box to put on display.

"Because she's-" Lowering his voice, he sighed, "Strich asked me the same question earlier, Groose."

"Yeah, and you said it was because she scares her own husband. Come on," From the box he dug out a collection of new scarves, "Help me set this up. We open in ten minutes."

Strich scampered to the table and joined Groose in an instant, but Cawlin remained firmly rooted in the ground.

"What?" Groose implored, slamming a hat with anticlimactic force on the table, "What do you want me to do? Fire her?"

"No, she just-" Cawlin folded his arms and faced the door, mumbling inaudibly, "Shp'cksnme…"

Strich's expression grew nearly as soft as the cloth in his hands, "Oh, Cawlin…"

"What'd he say?" Groose huffed, outraged, "Cawlin, what'd you say?"

Cawlin spun on his heel and stomped his foot, "She _picks_ on me, Groose! Luv makes all these stupid remarks whenever she sees me, like about how short and cute I am, like I'm some kind of baby. _Hold your horses_ , _young Cawlin_ \- gods! I'm seventeen, Groose! I'm a man!"

"Well," Groose snarled, shoving a clay pot in Strich's hands, "If you're such a _man_ , then you can suck it up and ignore her!"

Strich dropped the pot on his foot where it thankfully didn't explode into a million shards. "Groose!" He cried, hopping on his injured foot and howling in pain, "Cawlin just admitted to having _feelings_!" He bounced over to a chair and collapsed into it, nursing his foot on his knee.

"We all have feelings, Strich, and we need to stop acting like kids about them. And you know what? I think potions would be a great addition to our shop. Whether or not you two get along is up to you, because my number one priority is that the shop is to keep the shop standing."

"You're going to value some old hag over your own best friend?" Cawlin fumed, "You know, I wish I had never helped you with this rathole. If you _really_ were doing this for the village, you wouldn't have given in to some damn woman's threats. And now, Groose-" his nostrils flared and his fists balled at his sides, "I'm tired of you getting away with screwing over the whole village."

"Don't act like you have any say here. I could drop kick you if I wanted to."

"I _quit_."

Once more, Strich dropped the jar with a resounding _smash_ , and Cawlin, hands tucked behind him, took a resigned step backwards. "Come on, Strich. We're leaving."

"I'm not quitting," Strich countered mousily.

" _Fine_ , but don't expect-" He yanked open the door and hesitated, "...don't come crawling back to me when you need another worker. I'm done."

When he had finally left, Strich slithered down on to his knees and began collecting the shards of pottery. Compliantly, Groose joined him, the silence and implication breaching icily through the room.

"I ought to go talk to him," Strich remarked drearily, more as a suggestion to himself than to elicit advice from Groose.

Groose commented anyway, "Don't bother. He won't come back."

Delicately sweeping the fragments into a pile, Strich stood and hobbled into the kitchen to retrieve the garbage bin, "I wasn't going to ask him back."

"Oh…" He cautiously cupped the pile in his hands and dumped it into the bin, "I guess you think I made a pretty moronic decision, then."

"You could've probably said it nicer, Groose, but I trust you. It is your store, after all, and if you think that Luv would be a nice addition to our staff, then I think you should go for it."

His gaze dropped to the floor as shame bit away at his conscience. Reasons were reasons- and as long as he himself was convinced, it was no one else's right to know.

"Oh, damn- we open back up in five minutes. Take the afternoon off, Strich," Groose decided with finality, "Go talk to Cawlin or whatever. I'm closing the store for today."

With an enormous weight lifted from his shoulders- something he only noticed when it was gone- Groose began planning. In any case, it could take his mind of the chaos that was slowly unravelling itself around the shop and the village; he and Link, all differences aside, were going to do some snooping.

 _A/N: I am so, so, so sorry that I have taken so long to update. I hope that you guys won't give up on me, because I fully intend to continue this story. I have a week off next week so I am going to try to write chapter nine during that time, so keep your eyes open for an update!_

 _One thing I'd like to address, though, is that a guest review in chapter seven asked if Groose and Zelda were lovers._

 _The answer is no. This story is not about Groose and Zelda as a couple- though much of the plot is a result of Groose's blatant crush on Zelda. However, if anything, the only romantic subplot here is Link and Zelda. This story is more about friendship and the good and bad effects of capitalism._

Other than that, thank you so much for reading and please review if you get the chance! Tell me what you think and if there's anything more you'd like to see from this story. Although it's already been planned out, I am still willing- eager, even- to take suggestions as to how to improve the story, characters, and ideas.


	9. The King's Cheese

_A/N: Sorry for another long hiatus! Exams are over, so that will provide me with a little more time to write. This chapter is a bit shorter than most of them, but I hope those of you who are still reading enjoy it regardless._

* * *

 _The king's cheese is half wasted in pairings; but no matter, 'tis made of the people's milk._

 _-Benjamin Franklin_

* * *

That evening, soon after the sun had run its shallow course along the horizon and hidden from the growth of winter night, Groose met Link outside the shop, both equipped with sword and cloak. The last of the fireplaces were being extinguished around the village, giving the normally golden glow of their settlement a rather cold and bitter feel beneath the silver glare of the waning moon and the gentle burn of Link's oil lantern.

They had met silently, under the guise of night, Link explained tersely, because any open investigation about the village would cause an uproar, panic, or both. The idea of sneaking about abandoned houses and making unabashed accusations and conspiracies was—admittedly—enticing to Groose, but a village on edge was already more than they could handle.

"I want to look at Karane's house first," Link described his intentions as they walked together in matched stride, "Karane isn't someone who would just run off, so I think there might be something of interest at her house."

Groose looked at him in surprise, "Isn't that a little invasive?"

Link shrugged, "We do what we must, I suppose. She won't be in there, obviously. If I've learned anything, it's that the ends sometimes justify the means, Groose."

"Really?"

"Yep," Link said forlornly, "And after we go there, we ought to check out Rupin's old shop. No one's been in there since he left."

"Not the forest?" Groose prompted. They stopped just before Karane's door, their voices dropping to a whisper so as to not wake the occupants of the neighboring houses.

"I know I told you we would, but I have an inclination that we'll find something here." He gave the doorknob a jostle, "It's locked."

Groose stepped back and inspected the house and Link joined him thoughtfully. Like an odd couple, they stood in silence for a moment, contemplating the means by which they would enter the house. Groose's thoughts drifted from their task to Link who, out of the corner of his vision, was quietly eyeing the house, one of his hands propped against his chin contemplatively.

For a hero, Link sure was mild in his demeanor. His hushed consideration put Groose off, in a way, as someone who needed to talk through ideas before they came to fruition. Link thought, then acted. And sometimes, he just acted.

"I heard Cawlin quit his job," Link said suddenly, throwing Groose off guard.

Hesitating, Groose involuntarily glanced at his feet, "Yeah, he did. He was pissed that I hired Luv." He shook his head undetectably and met Link's interested gaze, "But, to be honest, Cawlin and I are pretty different sometimes."

"And Strich is the middle ground?" Link prompted.

Groose stared at him incredulously, irked, "How should I know?"

Dropping the subject with a shrug of his shoulders, Link started towards the side of the house, and Groose followed obediently.

Link gripped the base of the window and heaved upward, but to no avail; it did not budge. He gave another push, but the window, which Gondo had designed to open when pushed up, was sealed.

"Let me try," Groose insisted, shoving Link to the side. But to his partial humiliation, the window did not accommodate him either. As it could evidently not be opened with force, Groose surrendered.

"I remember Gaepora mentioning to Cawlin that he was considering putting locks on the windows, but I thought he never got around to it," Running a hand through his hair, Groose began pacing dubiously. "We might have to just break it."

Sighing resoundingly, Link wiped the dust and cobwebs off of his hands, "It'd probably be best not to break down the door or the window. It's still her house."

"But she's been gone for a _month_ ," Groose pressed, "Link, if you really think there's something valuable in there, then it doesn't matter how we get inside."

"You have a point, Groose. We can always rebuild doors and replace broken glass. Well?" He gestured offhandedly at the window, "What'll it be? Window or door?"

"The window, though easier to break, would make a lot of noise," Groose ventured, "But I'm a lot bigger than you. I bet I could get the door open if I could yank it off of the lock."

"Be my guest."

Groose was inclined to believe that Link was also capable of pulling off the door, but he accepted nonetheless and took hold of the doorknob, propped his foot against the bottom of the house for support, and gave a powerful yank. The splintering of wood was heard from within the house, evidence that the sliding lock was bending. It was a good thing they hadn't invested in metal locks, or the task would have been far more difficult.

Link nodded in approval, "Try again."

With the second attempt, Groose wrenched the door open with the lurching groan and snap of wood as the feeble bolt behind the door splintered in half, letting the door swing limply open. Impressed with his own handiwork, Groose gestured for Link to enter first before following him closely behind.

Karane's house was as much as he had expected: despite the colorless and angular silhouettes of shadows, the main room was well kept and organized with no signs of destruction. Everything, however, reeked heavily of dust. Groose was astonished that no one had yet entered to investigate.

Link lifted the lantern to eye level and surveyed the room carefully. A wooden chair stood in solitude in the corner, as if patiently awaiting use. Across the floor there was nothing out of place- only a woven rug upon which the legs of a table stood. The counters were impeccably—if not eerily—empty.

"Look at this," Shining the lantern over the floor, Link nudged Groose for his attention. "There're footsteps in the dust."

Squinting, Groose saw them. It was difficult to distinguish among the poor lighting, but they were clearly there- medium-sized, booted, and…

"They're new."

Silently thrilled, hearts thrumming anxiously, Link and Groose followed the footsteps across the room carefully until they halted at the door to Karane's bedroom.

Throwing a hesitant and somewhat apologetic glance at Link, Groose turned the knob with painstaking caution and pushed the door open, creaking loudly in the resolute silence.

"Who's there?" A familiar voice, shaking and fearful, broke the silence and Groose nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Pipit?" Link scoffed in disbelief, "What are you doing here?"

From the shadows, Pipit emerged, albeit defensively. He was still clad in his day clothes, eyes sunken in with fatigue, as they seemingly had been so since Karane had gone missing. His eyes darted briefly and anxiously to Groose before settling back on Link, "You broke down the door! I think I can be the first to ask why _you're_ here! You can't just break into people's homes!"

Groose raised an eyebrow, "But this isn't _your_ house, either."

"I sleep here, all right?" Pipit admitted dejectedly, "Karane's been gone for a month and she's probably as good as…" His voice cracked, "I'm tired of just hoping that she'll come back some day, alive. So I sleep here, hoping that she'll return."

Groose's expression fell with a poorly hidden veneer of guilt, "We're trying to find clues about Karane's whereabouts."

Temper rising once again, Pipit stood at his full height, "Good luck with that. It's probably too late, anyway. And if anyone one would know anything, it would be me."

"Do you?" Unlike Groose, Link's voice was brimming with sympathy.

"Not hardly," Pipit shook his head and collapsed into a nearby chair, "Karane is a really clean person. If there was anything left behind, it would've been something that _she_ left."

Exhaling with frustration, Groose admired the dark room. "You know, Pipit. It's possible she just _left_. Sometimes people get that way. They get a sort of calling, and they know it's time for them to leave. Maybe we're not supposed to find her."

Pipit glared at him loathsomely, "If you knew anything about Karane— _anything_ , Groose—then you would know she would never leave _us_ , and she would never leave _me_. She's loyal and she's brave. She doesn't get _callings_."

Groose was going to explain to Pipit that 'girls are mysterious beings and you can't always understand what they do' but he was interrupted by Link.

"Look at this, Groose," Link nudged him, then gestured with his lantern to a small square of paper lodged between the floorboard and the wall. Without the lantern and a scrutinizing eye, no one would have ever seen it. It was a fleeting sight and nearly impossible to see even in the lantern light, but the three of them could certainly see it.

"How do you notice these things?" Groose asked Link rhetorically, then bent down to retrieve the paper.

Examining the paper, he turned it over, the other side equally as blank as the first, with the exception of a stroke of ink. Not a dot, but a stroke of blue, as if the end of a word. The paper had been clearly torn from a larger piece. Link raised the lantern wordlessly as they examined it closer.

"What?" Pipit implored fretfully, "What is it?"

Groose stroked his chin thoughtfully, "It looks like something was written…"

"Well, that could be anything," Pipit yanked it out of Groose's hands. At first, he eyed it skeptically, but a moment later, his face contorted into concerned realization. Groose found that if the three of them were better communicators, much of this tension could be relieved.

"Karane doesn't use blue ink."

Groose quickly reobtained the paper, "Are you sure?"

"Why would she? There's a limited supply of black ink as it is, and she's not a writer of any sort, so I highly doubt she'd have blue ink."

"Well, then, who would have blue ink?" Groose passed the paper finally to Link, who examined it like a jeweler appraising his gems.

"We need to go to Rupin's shop. Now. I think we're on to something," Link decided. He pocketed the paper and turned to Pipit. "Do you want to come?"

"No, I'd rather stay here."

Link accepted with a slight nod, and he and Groose left Karane's house post haste. Together, they strode swiftly but silently with the urgency of a bird's fretful wing beat.

"Rupin used blue ink for labeling his products," Link remembered as they crossed the village center, "Do you think it's possible he still lives in his shop?"

"I don't know how he'd manage that, but if he's behind this, I'll kick his smarmy ass into next year." Groose yanked at the doorknob to Rupin's old shop, which was thankfully unlocked and accordingly deserted within.

Like Karane's house, there was a fine layer of abandoned and suffocating dust on all surfaces, reflecting about a thick and persistent ringing in the shop. However, while Karane's house had been clean, the shop appeared… kept, as if the building had not been randomly vacated, but rather done so systematically, slowly and carefully siphoned out of their village.

Instinctively, Groose made a beeline for Rupin's desk in the far right hand corner of the shop and opened the drawers rather noisily. Link motioned for him to act more silently, but Groose hardly paid him any regard. Rummaging through each drawer, all of which had been conspicuously stuffed with various old and crumpled papers that he tossed indifferently behind him, Groose dug into the deepest drawer.

His hand suddenly met with something paper, but far more solid and substantial than scraps. Though the darkness provided a convenient shield for whatever he had removed, and angled movement of the lantern revealed to both of them a stack of envelopes, bound by string, the top one boasting in a blue scrawl the name of Orielle.

"What on Earth?"

"Groose, we need to take these to Gaepora-"

Their attentions were diverted elsewhere when, from the edge of the village, there came a loud crash—of fallen furniture and smashing glass—followed by an night-breaking and familiar cry, one of pure panic.

Link and Groose scrambled reflexively for the door. Groose disregarded the envelopes on the floor and broke free into the roaring night where villagers had left their homes in the commotion and hummed a chorus of frightened murmurs and disturbed whispers.

To Groose's horror, the villagers gathered in a half moon around Fledge's house, their gazes fixated on the ground. Shoving past Bertie, Link at his heels, Groose stopped just short of a pile of glass shards, clearly splintered from Fledge's window.

"Has anyone seen Fledge?" Link cried. When no one answered, Groose tore a lantern from someone's lax grip and barged into the house through the open front door. Everything was remarkably normal and livable, except…

"Oh, gods," Groose breathed, "Link! Come here!"

Link arrived, accompanied by Zelda—who had also awoken to the sound of breaking glass—and both fell breathless in horror.

"There's blood," Groose managed, and it was true—it wasn't much, but it was there, in the form of several fresh, rose-colored splotches on the floorboards.

"What's this?" Groose turned to Zelda as she lifted something from the floor. An envelope.

"His name's on it," Zelda said with turbulent curiosity, "How odd. There's nothing inside of it, though."

"Groose, give me the envelopes," Link ordered.

Groose palmed about his pockets, panic rising in his gut when no such object materialized. "I must have dropped them," He admitted with dread, "When we heard all that commotion, I must have dropped them in Rupin's shop."

"Were you two sneaking around?" Zelda interjected, "It's nearly midnight, what were you—"

"We'll explain later," Link promised, then turned his attention towards Groose, "Well? Go get the letters! This could tell us what's going on!"

Groose nodded in affirmation, dashing out of the house and pushing his way through the crowd wordlessly. He entered Rupin's old store, but when he surveyed the musty, spacious room, the stack did not rest on the floor where he had likely dropped it. He tore open the desk in the possibility that he had mistakenly replaced them there, but to no avail. The shop was devoid of the stack of letters.

Yet here he was, on the Surface world, in Hyrule, where the bargain of moving to a lush, new world had been soiled by an act so terrifying and cruel as violence and perhaps kidnapping. And the man who had once owned them through their food and goods now possibly owned them in another way. The act was too close to be a mere coincidence—Rupin was here, or maybe not, but either way, his _presence_ was here and somehow, he was related to the letters, Karane, and the now missing and possibly injured Fledge.


End file.
